


Out of Wholeness

by bones_2_be



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bones_2_be/pseuds/bones_2_be
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes time, but Casey and Severide work through their animosity following the events of the pilot.</p><p>beta'd by 3988akasha</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Wholeness

Severide shook his head as he stalked away from the truck. He thought they’d made progress after they almost lost Herrmann. And he owed Casey his life for that one, but they’d all saved each other’s asses too many times to count. If Casey was gonna keep pulling this shit, he’d fuck him up bad. And maybe, just maybe he’d started it this time, or kept it going or something, but really. This wasn’t his fault, and if Casey thought that some goddamned corned beef was going to cut it, he had another thing coming. Darden had been a good man; he’d been Severide’s best friend since first grade. They’d met Casey five years ago, and he, Casey, and Andy had been close. It had been good. Then Casey had to go and get Andy killed and screw everything up. Losing him had been harder than when his mom died. 

“Severide,” Casey snapped, coming up behind him. “You never go off on my men like that.”

Severide lit a cigarette and brought it to his lips. “I will when they screw up. You’ve got no problem giving my unit crap orders, I can sure as hell tell yours when they missed the mark.”

“They didn’t,” Casey said, voice cold. 

“No, you did,” Severide said. “You keep it up, we’re gonna lose someone else.”

There was a long silence. “What the hell is your problem?” Casey said.

“You are,” Severide snarled, staring straight ahead at the city as he took a drag from his cigarette. No point mincing words now, he hadn’t at the scene.

“Why?” 

“Because you got a man killed. It happens. You liked him, so you don’t want to think it’s your fault. But guess what, Lieutenant? You fucked up,” Severide ground the cigarette under his heel and turned to face Casey, moving forward until there were mere inches between them. “You fucked up, and my best friend died on your watch. It’s not my fault, and no amount of yelling, or cold-shouldering, or showboating to fifth-graders is going to change that. Andy’s dead because of you.”

Casey’s blue eyes shuttered closed. 

“Fuck you,” he whispered, turning and walking away at a speed that could almost be classified as a run. Severide scoffed and walked back into the station, ignoring the looks from everyone else as he dropped into his seat at the table. 

He finished the Sudoku puzzle in the paper and read the sports section front to back before he got bored. Stretching, he stood to go upstairs and take a shower. With his luck, he’d get wet and the alarm would sound, but he felt dirty and sweaty and he wasn’t going to just sit around. The entire unit acted as though they couldn’t tell if he was about to go off on them or not. He shook his head as he wandered into the locker room. It wasn’t a unit problem, it was a Casey problem. 

Casey, who was sitting on the shower floor in his street clothes, soaked, water cascading over him. Severide hesitated, almost just turned around and left. He was angry, but Casey looked pretty fucked up. And yeah, he deserved it to a degree, but he was also in charge of half the station and he couldn’t be falling apart on the job. Severide crossed the room and stuck his hand under the water. It was icy cold. 

“Jesus, Casey,” he muttered, turning the water off. 

Casey blinked up at him, water dripping from his short hair and catching on his eyelashes. 

“Why’d you do that?”

“You’re gonna get yourself sick,” Severide said, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around Casey, rubbing his arms briskly through the terrycloth. 

“What’s going on in that fucked up head of yours?” he asked, pushing Casey so he sat down on the bench in the locker room. 

“It wasn’t my fault.” 

“Christ, are we doing this again?” Severide stood to leave, but Casey’s hand locked on his forearm in a vice grip.

“No, it’s not your fault either.”

Severide hesitated, and then sat back down. Casey rocked slightly, rubbing his arms. He stared, eyes unfocused, at some point on the opposing wall. 

“He was impatient, broke the window before we heard from you. He went in before you said there wasn’t a vent. I could have grabbed him, maybe, but I didn’t even realize what he was doing until he was through the window. I saw him burn. I saw the blast of flame, and I knew what it was and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”

Casey’s throat moved as he swallowed, once, twice. Severide didn’t say anything. A vague twinge of guilt started in his stomach and crept up through his chest to settle uncomfortably in his heart. 

“He didn’t wait. I shouldn’t have been blaming you,” Casey sounded subdued.

“Why did you?”

“Because I miss him, and I wanted someone to blame.”

Severide scoffed. “So blame yourself; get drunk and fuck a hooker.”

Casey shook his head. “He was my best friend.”

“Mine too,” Severide said. “For a hell of a lot longer than you knew him.” 

“He was the only one I told about the problems Hallie and I were having. I moved out the week he- the week of the accident.”

“I didn’t know that.” Go figure, Severide kicked himself, you haven’t talked to the guy in a month, of course you didn’t know he left his fiancée. Way to be obvious.

Casey didn’t seem to pick up on it, just answered. “I haven’t told anyone, but yeah. It was already rough between us, and it got to a breaking point.”

Severide felt like he had something stuck in his throat. They might not have shared a civil word in almost two months, but before the accident, he and Casey had been close, too. He’d thought so anyway. Why Andy but not him? 

“Jesus Christ, Matt. You didn’t tell me.”

Casey shrugged inelegantly. “I would’ve, but when I got off that ladder and you hit me and called me a murdering fuck, I didn’t think you wanted to hear it.”

Severide rested a hand on Casey’s shoulder, words failing. 

“It’s cool,” Casey said. “You don’t have to stick around. I’m fine.” He stood up, letting Severide’s hand slide off his shoulder. He pulled his shirt off, still shivering slightly, and grabbed a new shirt from his locker. 

“Yeah, right,” Severide said, more to himself than to Casey. He stripped and climbed into the shower. By the time he turned the water on, Casey was gone. Severide leaned back against the wall of the shower and let the water run over him. Severide ran the bar of soap over his chest, along his arms. He and Casey been close before, spent time at each other’s apartments, and maybe he’d always been the fifth wheel with Darden and Heather and Casey and Hallie, but they’d never made him feel that way. Now he didn’t even know how to talk to Casey without animosity. He rinsed off and got out of the shower.

When he went downstairs, Casey was on the couch in a heavy sweatshirt, reading a magazine. Severide almost went over to him, but decided against it, opting to go back into the hanger where it looked like his guys had a game of poker going. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Three days went by, and Casey had still hardly done anything but nod in Severide’s direction. He’d been so damned concerned about making nice before they’d talked, but now it was like he’d completely shut down. The chief had pulled them both into his office to apprise them of the status of Dawson’s case, and Casey had barely said a word. He’d left the office without so much as a glance at Severide. 

The chief raised an eyebrow. “That’s not exactly the dynamic I was going for when I said to get along.”

Severide gritted his teeth. He couldn’t win for losing, and he was getting really sick of Casey’s avoidance. 

“Yeah, I’m working on it.” 

The chief gave him an appraising look, but nodded. Severide turned and left the office. He wanted to go rip Casey a new one, but swallowed back the urge. He could be the bigger man. Casey couldn’t avoid him forever, he was pretty sure, and Severide was the only one who knew all of Casey’s big bad secrets. 

“Shay,” Severide said, coming up behind his roommate. The blonde EMT shook her head as he approached. 

“This is it,” she said, pushing a small vial angrily into his hand. “If it’s still as bad as you say, you go to the goddamn doctor. Dawson’s got a lawsuit for saving a kid’s life, the last thing I need is a lawsuit for stealing drugs and medicating a colleague off-record.” 

“I know,” Severide said. “I appreciate it.” 

Shay shook her head, concern clearly mixed with her irritation. “You’re crazy, Kelly. This kind of shit’s gonna catch up with you sooner than later, and what if when it does, you’re inside a building and you lose someone because you’re not on your a-game?”

Severide’s grip tightened dangerously on the bottle. “That won’t happen.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Shay hissed, glancing up and down the hall. “Take the goddamn drugs, but they’re your last from me. I’m done covering for you.”

Severide nodded curtly and headed immediately to the bathroom. He locked himself into the stall and quickly prepped the needle. He shoved it deep into his bicep and inhaled sharply. He tried to savor it, fully aware that this respite would be his last. When he stood up, he felt better. Good was maybe an overstatement, but the pain was muted to a manageable level. When he walked back into the common area, Casey was laughing with Mills. He looked happy and uninhibited and Severide realized he’d missed that look on Casey’s face. As soon as Casey saw Severide, his expression shuttered closed. 

“Um, I should go check on the truck,” Casey said, standing quickly. 

Severide wanted to hit something. He sat down, silently daring Mills to comment. To the kid’s credit, he just leaned back and tipped his head towards the TV. 

“You watch the Cubs game last night?”

Severide shook his head. “No, we win?”

Mills barked a laugh. “Not by half. Situation normal and all that. We did manage to score on Philly a couple times, but we had the bases loaded twice and struck out both times.”

Severide shook his head, eyes tracking Casey through the window into the hanger. 

“We just can’t win for losing.” 

Casey had been meticulous since their talk, not like he’d been legitimately messing up before, but still.

“No, seems not,” Mills said.

Severide looked up sharply at Mills’ tone, but the rookie just flashed him a smile and stood up. Severide crossed his arms and exhaled. He and Casey really needed to get their shit together. He’d bitch about Casey, but truth was, the guy was good at his job, a solid firefighter, and he led his men well. It wasn’t good for their drama to be messing up station dynamics. Though, Severide watched as Dawson approached Casey and engaged him in conversation, their relationship seemed to be the only thing affected. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Otis stuck his head inside the door. “Hey, we’re having a basketball game, fire versus rescue, get out here!” 

The guys got up off the couches, already good-naturedly ribbing each other. Severide didn’t move, but Vargas came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You should come play.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You’re team captain. It’ll be bad for morale if you let this thing with Casey keep you from a basketball game.” 

Vargas headed out the door, already stripping his t-shirt off. Severide sighed, ran a hand over his face, and stood up. He didn’t want to risk worsening his injury just as Shay cut him off, and he didn’t want to deal with Casey’s brutally effective cold shoulder, but Vargas had a point. 

The teams were already split when Severide walked out, and he caught Casey’s eye as he joined his men on the court. Casey twisted his lips into a smile, and he gave Severide a brief nod before beginning the game. That was something, Severide guessed, taking off after Mills. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Smoke poured out of the house, and Severide paced back and forth in front of the truck. He didn’t care that they hadn’t called for help, the team had been inside way too long. There was only supposed to be one person left in the building, and it wasn’t that big. The fire flared, and the house began creaking dangerously. Severide slammed his fist against the side of the truck and jerked his radio to his mouth. 

“Casey, where the hell are you guys?” 

“-got him,” Severide heard as he began talking. He’d talked over someone, probably Vargas. 

“Team A, Team B, where are you?” Severide asked again. 

“Team A here,” Vargas said, answering for himself and Mills. “Bottom floor, we’ve got the guy, on our way out.”

Team B was radio silent. 

“Jesus Christ!” Severide shouted at the house. The sirens and roar of the fire almost drowned him out.

“Team B,” Severide repeated, “do you copy?” 

Vargas and Mills emerged from the smoke, Mills carrying the unconscious teenage boy. 

“Where’s Casey and Otis?” Severide asked. 

Vargas shook his head. “They were upstairs.” He glanced over his shoulder at the house. “I don’t know where they are.” 

Severide waved his guys over. “We’re going in for Casey and Otis.” 

“Their alarms haven’t gone off, Lieutenant.”

“And they’re not responding on the radio,” he snapped. 

“They might not be able to hear,” someone else added. 

“We’re going in there, that’s an order. We don’t know where they are, and they’re unresponsive. I’m not going to risk losing two men, and that house is coming down,” he shouted, rounding on his men. 

They shot each other worried looks, but nodded and geared up. Another jet of flame shot from a hotspot on the roof. Severide felt sick. They moved inside, going upstairs immediately. They got to the second floor and fanned out into two groups. 

“Clear,” the first group shouted from down the hall. Severide motioned his group farther forward, then stopped. The roof had partially caved in, cutting off the second half of the house. The attic access was on that side of the hall, but it would’ve been impossible for Casey to get back to the main staircase. 

“Get out,” Severide shouted to his men, pointing back to the stairs. Into the radio, he called, “Casey and Otis are in the attic, can we get eyes on them?” One of his men stumbled, and Severide paused to help him up, smoke searing his eyes. “Come on,” he encouraged, trailing his team down the stairs to make sure he had them all. They broke free of the smoke, and he bolted to the truck. “Do we have a visual yet?” The operator shook his head. 

Just then, an attic window shattered from inside. 

“Get a ladder here,” Casey shouted, motioning frantically. 

Severide inhaled deeply, relaying Casey’s message to the truck in a hoarse shout. The ladder extended, and Casey shoved Otis out the window as soon as the ladder was within reach. Otis tried to move quickly, but his grip kept slipping. 

It wasn’t until Casey finally climbed onto the ladder that Severide realized he’d been whispering prayers under his breath. When Casey’s feet touched the ground, Severide stormed over, a thousand things screaming through his mind. What the fuck happened to your radio? And, how did you get yourself trapped? And don’t ever do that to me again. But what came out was a hoarse,

“Fucking idiot,” and then Severide grabbed Casey by the front of his jacket, knocked his helmet off and crushed their lips together. Casey reciprocated forcefully, hands coming up to rest on Severide’s shoulders. Their tongues slid together, open-mouthed and desperate. Then Casey’s whole body tensed, and he stumbled back as if he’d been shot. 

“I, uh,” he bent down and picked up his helmet, brushing it off. “I should check in with Vargas.” 

“Yeah,” Severide said, the feel of Casey’s lips burned against his skin. How stupid was he? It was probably not possible for him to have done anything more colossally idiotic. 

“Severide, we gotta go,” Otis clapped his hand on Severide’s shoulder and tugged, pulling him away from the building. The screaming groan of the house preceded the crash, the sway and shudder that let them know the house was collapsing in on itself. Then the roof fell in, the intense heat searing. The crew continued fighting the blaze, but it was simply to keep it from spreading. 

Casey came over to Severide, half a bottle of water poured over his head, chugging the remainder. 

“What happened to your radio in there?”

“I don’t know,” Casey finished the water bottle and exhaled. “I didn’t realize they weren’t working until nobody was responding. I nearly panicked, until I remembered the attic.” Casey shook his head, ran a hand over his face. “Too close for comfort.” 

“Way too fucking close,” Severide agreed. The thought of radio silence in the roar of a house about to cave in made him sick.

“By the way,” Casey said, suddenly hesitant. “Are we gonna talk about,” he faltered.

“What just happened?” Severide finished. He shook his head. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Right,” Casey said. “Cool.” 

Severide nodded. It was the right answer. 

 

Back at the station, Casey went into the building immediately. Severide hung out around the truck with the guys, jawing about the blaze. It had been unnerving for all of them, and Vargas was trying to figure out what had happened to the radios. They were playing with different frequencies when someone came up behind them.

“Severide,” Casey said. “The chief wants us.”

Severide swallowed thickly. He didn’t figure the conversation was going anywhere good. He pushed up from the table and followed Casey down into the chief’s office. 

“Lieutenants,” the chief greeted. They nodded, standing an arm’s reach apart, hands clasped behind their backs. “This is not an inspection,” the chief said, raising an eyebrow. 

Casey glanced nervously at Severide, and they both took more relaxed stances. 

“I’ve heard that you two… had a moment at the blaze this afternoon. That so?”

“We kissed,” Severide said tightly. 

“Does this have anything to do with the interpersonal issues you’ve been having for the last two months?”

They both shook their heads. 

“You sure about that?” 

“Yes sir,” Casey answered for them. “It was adrenaline and poor judgment.”

The chief nodded slowly. “Well that’s a damn shame, I was going to tell you to get in bed and fix it already.”

Severide snorted, barely containing his laughter. He glanced over to see Casey grinning, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. 

“I don’t care what the two of you do or don’t do on your personal time. But on my time, don’t be fooling around again. Understood?”

“It won’t be a problem,” Severide answered. 

“Good. Now get the hell out of my office.”

They retreated back into the common area, and Severide almost brought his hand up to Casey’s shoulder, then dropped it back to his side and went out to sit with his unit.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide didn’t know how it was possible for a situation to go so wrong so fast. Casey had be ordered to take lead on a call that Severide was pretty damn sure should’ve been rescue’s from the get-go, and by the time his guys got inside the men were so frustrated they got sloppy and nearly brought the building down on their heads. The shouting match that ensued with Casey on the front lawn was not either of their finest moments. They’d stopped just short of physically assaulting each other, and only because Casey had walked away. 

When the chief called them into his office, Severide somehow didn’t expect a commendation. 

“Stand at attention, both of you,” the chief ordered. “I thought we were getting somewhere. Crazy as it was, I believed you two were making progress. Seems like we haven’t gotten anywhere at all,” he paused in his pacing to stop in front of Severide. “Lieutenant Severide,” he said, “do you trust Lieutenant Casey?”

“With my life.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s the best damn firefighter in the city.” He meant it, too. He probably wouldn’t still be around if he didn’t think Casey was the best. 

“Lieutenant Casey,” the chief continued, “do you trust Lieutenant Severide?”

“Yes sir,” Casey said, voice even and quiet. 

“With your life?”

“Yes sir,” Casey repeated. 

“Good. I’m glad we’ve got that out in the open. At ease,” the chief waited for the two men to relax before continuing. “This knowledge should help you next weekend.”

“What’s next weekend?” Casey asked. 

“A team-building seminar in Colorado.” 

Severide blinked, taking the brochure the chief offered him. “A what?”

“I considered forcing you to attend partner counseling from the department psychiatrist, but decided this would probably go over better.”

“Thank God for small mercies,” Casey muttered. 

Severide stifled a chuckle. 

“You’re serious,” he said instead, waving the pamphlet vaguely. “The department is sending us to Colorado to learn how to play nice with each other?”

The chief sat down and eyed them both levelly. “Losing Andy was hard for the entire station. I know the three of you were very close, and you two took it harder than anybody. And I don’t know what happened to the two of you to make you this way, but it must stop. This is my last resort. If the situation doesn’t reach some sort of balance, one of you is leaving. I will not have such division in my station. I will not have two prominent ranking firefighters screaming at each other in public, at a fire. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” they replied. 

“So,” he said. “You’ll get into Denver Friday afternoon, and leave Sunday evening.” He looked between them, expression softening slightly. “I don’t expect you to come back drinking buddies. I just expect that my leadership will be able to interact effectively.”

“Yes sir.” 

The chief tipped his head. “Dismissed, gentlemen.”

They slunk out the doorway, and Casey leaned against the wall in the hallway. 

“I guess it could be worse.”

Severide gave him a hard look. “Not by much. And what, we’re going to do trust falls all weekend? How hard is it to just get along?”

“I don’t know,” Casey snapped, “but we can’t seem to figure it out.” He folded his arms across his chest, suddenly seeming much smaller than usual. “Maybe it won’t be terrible.”

Severide said nothing, but inside he deeply doubted it. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide slammed a t-shirt into his duffel bag. He didn’t want to go on this stupid trip to begin with, and after talking to the doctor, he didn’t want to do anything. His shoulder was a lot worse than he’d thought, and it wasn’t going to get better without surgery. That was time he didn’t have and money he couldn’t afford to spend. Plus the chief’s reaction to him filing an injury report two months later would probably make him wish he was on another continent. A honk from downstairs pulled him from his thoughts. 

He glanced at his watch and cursed. Yeah, Casey would be exactly on time. Severide threw socks, another pair of jeans, and an extra pair of shoes into the bag and zipped it shut. If this trip was like any other, he’d forgotten something important he wouldn’t remember until he was in the plane, but he swung the bag over his shoulder and headed downstairs. 

“Hey,” Casey greeted. His short blond hair was combed down, and he was dressed in a t-shirt that hugged his frame. He looked good. Severide threw his bag in the back of the car and climbed in the passenger seat. 

“So you’re leaving your car at the airport?” 

Casey nodded. “Yeah, I kind of forgot to ask someone to drive us, so I’ll just take the hit for the long-term parking.” 

“You’re a more trusting soul than I,” Severide said. There were too many vehicle break-ins at the airport for him to ever consider leaving his car there. 

Shrugging, Casey turned out of the apartment parking lot. “I guess.”

The ride to the airport was largely silent. Midway was easy to navigate, but rush-hour traffic meant they got to their gate just in time for the last boarding call. It wasn’t a long taxi, and Casey pulled out a pack of gum as the plane increased in speed. He pulled a piece for himself and extended the pack to Severide. 

There was a moment’s hesitation before Severide got the fuck over himself and took the gum. 

“Thanks,” he said. 

Casey smiled. “You’re welcome.” He stared out the plane window as the wheels left the ground. “You ever been to Colorado?” 

Severide shook his head. “No. My whole family’s from the east coast.”

“Same,” Casey said. He flipped repeatedly through the SkyMall magazine, and Severide was just about to engage him in a game of tic-tac-toe, anything to get him to stop fidgeting and commenting on random, useless knick-knacks, when they reached cruising altitude. The magazine went in the seat-back pocket, and Casey pulled out his i-pod and plugged in his earbuds. 

Severide pulled out his laptop and turned on Wanted. It was a crappy movie, but it was good fun. He glanced over to Casey about halfway through and saw him absently tracing a scar on his forearm. Severide turned back to his movie. 

The credits rolled shortly before the pilot announced initial descent into Denver, and Severide flipped his laptop shut and put it away. Casey had apparently already given up on the i-pod and was back to flipping through SkyMall.

“Looking to buy a Lord of the Rings chess set?” Severide jibed. 

Casey smiled self-deprecatingly. “Nah, I just think it’s cool stuff. Brings out the little kid in me. Don’t you remember flying when you were eight or nine and thinking this was the best thing ever?”

Severide shrugged, amused by Casey’s fascination. “I don’t think I flew until I was in my twenties.” But Casey had been a military brat. He’d probably spent a lot of his life on airplanes growing up. 

Casey slid the magazine into the seat-back pocket and stared out the window. The mountains were visible, and actually really impressive. Severide had googled Aspen. It was into the mountains a bit, something of a drive. He wasn’t necessarily looking forward to it. He didn’t want to drive in the mountains, but he deeply hated being a passenger. Casey had left the choice to him, which Severide appreciated on a lot of levels. For one, it proved that Casey was at least going to try and keep the weekend civil. 

Severide could meet that halfway. That’s why, when the desk guy at the rental place slid the keys across the counter, Severide turned and headed for the door, leaving Casey to pick up the keys. 

They spoke sporadically on the drive, conversation coming in halting fits and starts. Colorado traffic was a breeze compared to what they were used to, and Casey was far more relaxed than Severide had ever seen him driving. 

“It’s so small,” Casey said, eying Denver as they drove past. 

Severide snorted. “That’s because it’s still a cow town.” 

Casey shot him a sideways look, but grinned. “Well look, it’s got an amusement park. And a baseball field.”

Severide arched an eyebrow. “Have you seen that skyline?”

Casey laughed, grinning widely. 

“No, seriously,” Severide asked. “Do you see that? It’s tiny. And short. We’re not in Chicago anymore.”

“No,” Casey affirmed. “For one, driving is actually driving here, not inching painfully along at five miles an hour.”

Severide shrugged. “It’s the price we pay.”

“Yeah,” Casey affirmed. “But this is kind of nice.”

They fell silent again, and Casey turned the radio on, flipping through stations before he found something that seemed to be contemporary rock. He glanced at Severide for affirmation, and receiving no negative response, left it. Severide crossed his arms and settled back against the car seat, letting the melodious sound of “Payphone” assault his ears.

 

“Fuck,” Casey snapped, waking Severide from his nap. “I hate the road signs in this state. And the directions from the website suck too. I got really confused back there.”

Severide blinked and looked around. They were passing a small ski resort. Ski lifts stretched back behind the front buildings. 

“This isn’t Aspen?”

Casey shook his head, running a hand over his face. 

“No. The sign said Copper Mountain. We’ve still got close to two hours.”

“Want me to drive?”

“No,” Casey’s grip tightened on the wheel. Severide forced his shoulders to relax. He’d let Casey drive, he didn’t fucking care that Casey didn’t want him to drive. He glanced out the window as the resort faded in the rearview mirror. 

“Want me to pull it up on my phone?”

“No, let’s take this for a while. Our next exit should be state highway 24.” 

Severide gritted his teeth and turned his body so he was facing away from Casey. Half an hour later, he put their end address into his phone. 

“We’re going the wrong way,” he said. They were driving past a sprawling ski town, faux-Bavarian lodges surrounded by ski lifts and pine trees and McDonalds. There was something oddly appealing about it.

“This is Vail,” he said. “We’re way past where we should have turned.” 

Casey pointed at a road sign. “We can turn on 24 in a few miles.”

“We’ve already gone half an hour out of the way.”

“So we turn around and go back instead of just turning up ahead?”

“If you’d let me look it up to begin with, it wouldn’t have been a problem,” Severide snapped. “You don’t always have to be right, Casey.”

“Yeah, well neither do you. We’re getting where we need to be, so fuck off.”

Severide fell silent. Maybe getting through a weekend in close contact with Casey was going to be harder than he’d anticipated. In about ten minutes, they turned onto highway 24. Severide shook his head and rolled his shoulder out, wincing as pain spiked through his body. 

“You okay?” Casey asked, glancing over. 

“Yeah, just stiff from all the sitting.” Like hell Severide was gonna tell Casey that his shoulder was one solid hit away from giving out on him. No need to give him leverage, and it wasn’t any of his business. Or so Severide managed to convince himself. 

“Right,” Casey said, turning onto highway 24. “Well, we’re back on track.” 

Severide said nothing, just watched the landscape go by and tried to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time they got to the lodge in Aspen, Severide was ready to kill Casey, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Breathing had no right to be so irritating. Severide walked into the lodge without waiting for Casey. A man in a brown sweatshirt with “Pike’s Peak” printed across the front greeted him when he came in. 

“Hey, you here for the seminar?” 

“Yeah,” Severide glanced around the spacious lobby. “Kelly Severide, Chicago Fire Department.” 

“I’m Brian Gale, assistant coordinator,” he replied as he looked down at his clipboard. “I’ve got you,” he checked something off. “Where’s Matthew Casey?”

Severide set his jaw. “He’s in the car.”

“Okay, cool,” Brian made another note, then looked up. “Well here, let me go ahead and show you to your room. Come with me.”

Severide considered waiting for Casey, then decided against it and followed Brian down the hall. 

“Here you go,” Brian said, swiping a key and pushing the door open. He pushed two plastic keys into Severide’s hand.

Severide took two steps into the room and froze. There were two beds. “Am I rooming with someone?” He looked over his shoulder at Brian. 

The coordinator looked confused. “Yes, with Mr. Casey.” 

Severide’s mouth worked soundlessly, then he clicked his mouth closed and nodded. 

“Okay. I wasn’t aware.”

“Oh, yeah. We always try to get people from the same organizations to room together. It just makes the bonding process gel a little faster.”

Severide forced a tight smile. “Of course.”

He waited for Brian to leave the room before slamming his fist against the doorframe. The chief’s stupid idea was getting worse by the minute. They were missing work to bunk together in some oversized cabin for a weekend, and they’d be lucky if they both made it out alive. A sharp knock on the door broke into Severide’s mental rant, and he stalked over and flung it open. 

Casey stood there, backpack in hand. 

“You could’ve waited,” he spat, shouldering past Severide.

“You could’ve brought my bag,” Severide said, eying the backpack Casey tossed onto the far bed. 

“Right,” Casey replied, not looking up as he pulled everything out of his bag and began shoving it in the top drawer of the dresser. 

“Whatever,” Severide said. He dropped a room key on the desk and walked out to the car to get his bag. The weather was pleasant, not much colder than it had been in Chicago. It was a pretty area, if he were given to that kind of assessment. The trees were turning colors in weird patches of gold, and the leaves caught the fading sunlight. But it was abnormally silent, and Severide found himself missing the dull roar of life noise in the big city. It was going to be a long weekend. 

He shook himself and grabbed his duffel from the car, slinging it casually over his shoulder. His knees almost buckled, and he dropped the bag to the ground. When his breathing evened out, he picked the bag back up and put it carefully over his other shoulder.

Casey was shirtless when Severide walked back into the room, relaxed back on the bed with the TV on. 

“Orientation’s at six,” Casey said, not looking up. Severide glanced at his watch. It was just after five thirty. He flipped his laptop open and started reading random articles on CNN. The tension in the room was palpable. He looked up when Casey switched the TV off and stood, grabbing a shirt. 

“Come on,” Casey said, running a hand through his hair. His tone had lost its edge, but he still seemed cagey. Severide shut his laptop and followed Casey out of the room. They wandered down the hall, and Severide looked around uncertainly. 

“Where are we going?”

Casey nodded his head towards a big conference room. “Orientation.”

“How’d you know where it is?”

“I asked.”

Severide couldn’t help it. “Damn, guess there’s a first time for everything.” The look Casey shot him was startling in its intensity. Fuck him, Severide wasn’t wrong. They’d actually have had time to relax if they hadn’t wasted half an hour going out of their way. 

When they walked into the room, they probably looked like they’d just as soon hit each other as anything else. If he was being realistic, Severide would rather just duke it out with Casey. He’d thought they’d made some fucking progress but every day it was worse, and it just got harder to be in the same building. He knew he didn’t make it easy, but if Casey would just give a little. Severide forced away that line of thinking and dropped into a chair across the room from Casey. 

Brain Gale was at the front of the room, checking people off on a clipboard. A burly man dressed like a lumberjack walked up to the front and faced the group. 

“Hello, how’re ya’ll doing?” 

Severide mumbled fine, his enthusiasm hardly matching the rest of the room. Casey’s face was blank. Which, Severide knew, meant he was pissed. 

“I’m Paul Jackman, I’m the event coordinator. This is Brian, ya’ll should’ve met him already. He’s my assistant coordinator. So basically, we’re going to go around, I want each of you to stand up and introduce yourself. Tell us your name, where you’re from, and why you’re here. Let’s start over here.” 

Paul pointed to a woman sitting at the corner of the room, and she stood up and introduced herself. Severide sighed at her enthusiasm. By the time they got to him, he was stunned by the number of business people who’d been sent for a fun bonding weekend. He stood up, not bothering to uncross his arms. There was a moment when he thought about curbing himself, but Casey’s flat expression had been wearing on him since they’d entered the room.

“I’m Kelly Severide, Chicago Fire Department. I’m here because my colleague is passive aggressive and can’t effectively handle conflict.” He dropped back into the chair, instantly wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Casey had drawn his arms tightly against his body, and his eyes had darkened. Whatever. He had it coming. Severide tried to focus on the other people who were now introducing themselves into the awkward atmosphere that had followed what he said. He braced himself when it came to Casey’s turn to introduce himself. 

“Hey,” Casey said, standing up slowly. “I’m Matthew Casey, Chicago Fire Department. I’m here to fix a relationship that isn’t working.” He caught Severide’s eye as he sat down and offered a hesitant smile. Severide looked away. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When the alarm went off at six in the morning, Severide cursed, fumbling for the radio clock. He finally opened his eyes to see that Casey had plugged it in across the room. Stumbling to his feet, he crossed the room and turned off the obnoxious alarm. He glanced out the window, blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. There was a blanket of snow on the ground. It wasn’t much, maybe an inch or two, but it was there. Fuck this fucking state.

“Wake up, Casey,” Severide said. 

“Already?” Casey mumbled against his pillow, stretching out awkwardly. 

“Yes. I hope you brought a fucking coat.” 

Casey sat up. “Why?”

“Because it snowed last night.” Severide stalked over to his still-packed duffel and pulled out jeans and a t-shirt. He hoped the lodge sold sweatshirts. 

“Jesus,” Casey muttered, falling back against the pillow.

Severide went into the bathroom and shut the door. When he emerged, Casey was pulling a station sweatshirt over his head. Casey glanced at Severide’s t-shirt. 

“I’ve got another, if you want.” 

Severide shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m going to eat.” 

They’d been told breakfast would be served from six to seven, and the scheduled activities would start at seven sharp. Numerous team-building exercises littered their morning, and they were supposed to do a high ropes course in the afternoon. Severide was curious to see how that would go. 

One glance around the breakfast bar let him know that he and Casey had missed the memo. Everyone else seemed to have a coat that was either fleecy or poufy, complete with proper boots and gloves tucked into their pockets. 30 degree overnight temperature drops were not normal, whatever these weirdos seemed to think. 

Severide loaded his plate and sat down at the last seat of a crowded table. 

“Hey,” a young guy from Denver, Eric, greeted. “Pumped to do the ropes course in the snow? I’m really glad it’s not set up on a belay.” 

“Oh I know,” a woman whose name escaped Severide piped up. “You wouldn’t catch me dead on a belay course with the snow.”

“It’ll probably be melted by noon,” Brian assured them, and they all laughed. Severide forced a confused chuckle. They seemed serious, laughter notwithstanding. He glanced out the window at the flat grey sky and raised an eyebrow dubiously. 

Casey walked in, and Severide tracked his movement through the line. When his plate was full, Casey scanned the room for Severide. He took two steps towards the table and faltered. He took his bottom lip in his teeth, and turned to sit at a different table, smiling as he greeted his dining companions. Severide turned back to his plate, picking at the scrambled eggs, and let himself get swept up in conversation. When he finished eating, Casey had left. 

Severide glanced at his watch. They had five minutes until they were supposed to be out front. He wandered over to the lodge gift shop, eying the kitschy sixty dollar sweatshirts. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Casey said behind him. Severide turned, and Casey shoved a sweatshirt against his chest. He took it reflexively, then tried to hand it back. Casey backed away, expression impossible to read. “Wear the damn thing,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and joining the group outside. 

Severide stared down at the navy blue sweatshirt, then bit the bullet and pulled it on. It smelled like the station, and Casey’s shampoo. He swallowed back a wave of frustration. He wanted to be working, and instead he was in some neo-hunting lodge in the mountains because he and Casey couldn’t fucking get along. He tamped down the voice in his head that pointed out that refusing to take a sweatshirt in freezing weather was maybe not conducive to team spirit.

When he got outside, Severide was glad he’d taken the sweater. It was still way colder than he was ready for. He wondered what it would take to convince Paul to move the exercises inside. Everybody shuffled, shifting their weight from foot to foot to keep warm. 

Paul walked up to the group and grinned broadly. “Looks like we got a bit of snow. I’m not too worried about it, and we’ve got guys clearing off the ropes course so we’ll be good to go with that after lunch. For now, I want you to break up into the groups we had last night, Team A, go with Brian and Team B, stay with me. 

Severide grimaced. He’d sincerely hoped that their icebreaker groups from the night before were going to get shaken up. Casey came over and stood by him, rubbing his arms briskly. Severide forced himself to stand still. 

“Alrighty,” Paul said, drawing the group’s attention. “We all know each other, so I’ll skip the formalities. We’re going to start with something simple- tug of war,” he pointed to a shoveled patch of dirt. A thick rope lay across a spray-painted white line. “Break into two groups of four and get ready.” 

Severide moved to the far side of the line, and Casey and two women joined him. There were three guys and a woman on the other side. They picked the rope up, shifting their grips and planting their feet.

“Ready?” Paul asked. The group nodded and called their affirmation. “Go!” he said, stepping back a bit. 

As soon as Severide’s muscles locked, his shoulder screamed at him. He’d taken four ibuprofen with breakfast, but it hadn’t been nearly enough. Gritting his teeth, he threw his weight back fully, taking one small step, then another. Casey was in front of him, the closest to the line, and he had taken a full step back as well. The pressure behind faltered, and Severide stumbled forward, slamming his foot down just behind Casey’s. 

“Come on,” he called, digging his heels in deeply. Casey replicated the action, and behind Severide, the women got into it again. They got one step, then another, and then the momentum gave in their favor and the other team tripped forward over the line. 

Casey spun around, hand up for a high-five. Severide responded, for a brief moment forgetting that they weren’t getting along. Then the two women, Katy and Anna, were cheering and high-fiving them as well. Severide just savored the small victory. 

“Getting warmed up?” Paul asked, grinning. 

Everybody responded in the affirmative. 

“Great, because now we’re doing something that takes a little flexibility. Ya’ll up for it?”

Again, the affirmative. Severide wondered caustically what would happen if someone told the man no. 

“Okay, make a circle.” 

Once the group was positioned in a tight circle, Paul continued. “Put your right hand in, and take the hand of the person across from you,” he waited until they’d done it. Severide had Casey’s hand in his, and it was freezing. He made a note to ask Paul if there were extra gloves anywhere before they did the ropes course. 

“Great,” Paul said. “Now reach in with your left arm and take someone else’s hand.” 

Severide did as instructed, but he was pretty sure he didn’t like where the game was going. 

“Now, without letting go of anybody’s hands, untangle yourselves.” 

A chorus of groans rang out, followed by laughter as everybody immediately began to move back at once. What ensued was easily half an hour of contorting and twisting and making the girls step through arms because they were smaller. The pain in Severide’s shoulder spiked every time he raised his arms or twisted. By the time they were completely unraveled, he had sweat pouring down his back and felt like just cutting his damn arm off. 

“You okay?” Casey asked quietly. 

“I’m fine,” Severide said. If Casey could tell something was wrong, he was slipping. He gritted his teeth and told himself to stop being such a fucking baby. 

Casey gave him a worried look, but mercifully let it go. 

“Alright,” Paul called out, “now everybody follow me.” 

The group wandered after Paul around the lodge, and stopped at the edge of a snow-covered field littered with soccer balls, baseballs, and firewood. 

“So here’s how it works,” Paul said, pulling out a small bag and passing it around. “You’re each going to work with the person to your right,” Severide didn’t need to look to his right to know it was Casey, “and one of you is going to wear a blindfold.” Severide pulled a bandana from the bag and passed it on. 

“The object is for the person who can see to guide their partner across the minefield safely. You must verbally guide your partner around the mines and to one of the ribbons on the far side. Once they have a ribbon, guide your partner back across the field. The first team to successfully return with a ribbon wins. If you bump into one of the mines, you restart. So go ahead and blindfold the person who’s walking.” 

Severide turned to Casey. “I’ll do it, if you want.” 

Casey shook his head, taking the bandana and tying it securely around his eyes. 

“I’ll let you guide me.” 

Severide bit at his upper lip. “Okay.” He put his hands on Casey’s shoulders and turned him towards the field. “I’m gonna talk the whole damn time, that cool?” 

Casey nodded. “Yeah, good idea. I don’t want to lose contact.” 

“Exactly.” Severide took a step back and waited for Paul to tell them to start. 

At the word, “go,” he began talking, voice pitched to carry the distance between them. “Keep going, straight ahead, that’s it, one full step to the right, good, forward, keep going, you’re clear, clear, clear, move to the right, that’s it,” his volume increased as Casey got farther across the field. Two teams had restarted, and the other was silent except when there was an obstacle. 

“Okay Casey, two steps to your left, put your right arm up, out, feel the ribbon? Got it, turn around, come back towards me, step left, fuck! right, go right, clear, keep walking, I’ll get my directions figured out, keep coming, take a step to your left, another step, keep coming, straight ahead, good,” Severide let his voice lower as Casey got closer, and he put his arms up to stop Casey as he crossed the line. 

“We win?” Casey asked, reaching up to take the blindfold off. 

“Yeah,” Paul laughed. “You guys won.” Casey turned to watch the other three teams struggle with the course. One of the teams had restarted twice, and the other two were just reaching the other side. 

Casey bumped Severide’s shoulder playfully. “How proud would the chief be right now?” 

Severide wanted to laugh, wanted to play along, but Casey had bumped his bad shoulder and it was all he could do to keep from throwing up. He knew he must look pissed, but he forced a smile. 

“Yeah, guess you’re used to following my voice.” 

He kicked himself, because that, that did not fucking come out the way he meant for it to. Casey’s expression, open since the first game, snapped closed and he moved away from Severide. Godfuckingdamnit, Severide cursed mentally. He was not willing to lose all their progress. He’d go talk to Casey as soon as his shoulder stopped throbbing. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide practically had to corner Casey after lunch. 

“Here,” he said, holding out the gloves Paul had given him. “You’re always so cold.”

Casey took the gloves warily. “Thanks,” he said. He turned to walk away, then spun back. “I’m trying,” he said. “Some of this hasn’t been so bad, right?” 

“No,” Severide shook his head. “It hasn’t.”

Casey nodded. “Cool,” he said, and walked back to the rest of the group. Severide ducked back to their room and downed another six ibuprofen. He needed to go to a doctor as soon as they got home. Without the prescription meds from Shay, the shoulder wasn’t something he could ignore anymore. He stretched, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out as his shoulder revolted. 

After the minefield game, they’d played a few more team games before Team A and Team B had been pitted against each other for a snowball fight. Severide had been the first casualty, and blissfully sat out the remainder of the match until lunch. 

He wasn’t looking forward to the ropes course, but he figured the drugs would get him through it. The rest of the weekend was supposed to be actual presentations on leadership and teamwork, no more physical activity.

It was about a half-mile walk to the ropes course, and Casey fell in beside Severide. 

“Their snow doesn’t stick around,” he said, glancing around. Where there had been a full sheet of white not hours before, exposed ground was the only thing left. Patches of snow remained tucked up against the shady base of pine trees, but that was about it. 

“It’s kind of strange,” Severide agreed. The sun had come out, and the temperature had jumped almost twenty degrees. He slid Casey’s sweatshirt off and tied it around his waist. 

Casey grinned. “I’m not that warm yet.”

Severide returned the smile, grateful that things had seemingly smoothed back over. If it did nothing else, all the fooling around in the morning had made him realize how much he missed Casey. As a friend, as a colleague, there was this huge void where Casey had been. Maybe he’d just missed it because it blended and blurred and tied into the chasm where Andy had been in Severide’s life, but he fucking missed Casey. The man was easy to be around. He had an easy laugh, and he liked making people smile. Something twisted in Severide’s gut as he glanced over at Casey. He felt like there was so much space between them now. 

Up ahead, Paul stopped by a massive net. “This,” he said, gesturing grandly, “is the start of the ropes course. You clip into a harness, and then you climb the net to the top of the tower,” he pointed up, and Severide had to stifle a chuckle at the gasps that ensued. “The tower is two hundred feet. When you reach the top, you’re going to rappel down one hundred and twenty-five feet to the main level of the ropes course. From there on out, you’ll follow mine and Brian’s lead through the rest. Got it?” 

Severide grinned at Casey when the response was less than enthusiastic. Casey smiled broadly, ducking his head so nobody else saw. 

“Matt, Kelly, would you like to start?”

“Sure,” Casey said, walking up to the first harness. Severide walked up behind him, and Brian clipped them in, explaining the safety features and emergency release. With a quick glance at each other, Severide and Casey started up the net rapidly. It moved a lot, but that wasn’t a deterrent. Severide dropped his weight into his boots, climbing more than pulling himself. It took a little longer, but Casey didn’t beat him to the top by much. They nodded to the two course assistants, then leaned against the tower wall and waited for the rest of the group. 

“So, I’m betting most people here have never rappelled,” Casey said quietly. 

“Yeah, we should probably bracket them, make sure it goes smoothly.” 

“That’s what I was thinking. Want to go first or last?”

“I’ll go last,” Severide said. His shoulder was sore, but it wasn’t actively hurting like it had been. That was a definite improvement. 

He and Casey called encouragement to the rest of the group, giving each of them a hand into the tower and high-fiving the accomplishment. When Brian reached the top, he asked who wanted to rappel first. 

“I’ll go in the first group,” Casey said, stepping forward and picking up a harness. 

“Awesome,” Brian said. “Who wants to go with Matt?” 

Two guys and a woman volunteered, and the course attendants assisted Brian and Paul in hooking them in. Casey had already gotten his rig secure and was ready to go. When the belayers were ready, Casey backed up to the wall, gently encouraging the woman and one of the guys who both looked so nervous they were trembling. Casey walked slowly over the edge, talking the others through the process as he did. There was a moment’s hesitation, then they followed him down. Severide chatted with the rest of the group as they waited for the lines to clear. 

The next group took a little coaxing too, as did the third, and Severide talked them over the edge, his voice rhythmic, like he was drawing a woman onto a rescue ladder. He noticed the appreciative look Paul gave him and briefly wondered how long this process took when they didn’t have emergency professionals present. He was raring to go by the time it was his turn, and he had the final three guys pumped up too. 

Severide was just about to go over the edge when he realized that he really shouldn’t put the weight on his right arm. He switched his lead hand grimacing as he did. Whatever, the price you pay. He stepped off backwards, giving a mock salute to Brian and Paul. They were going to rappel down last. 

By the time they reached the bottom, Severide was deeply glad he’d switched to his left arm. For all their bluster and bravado, the guys he’d rappelled with had gotten nervous halfway down, and he’d had to lock into place and talk them to him, and then repeat. He unhooked his harness, and looked up to meet Casey’s confused gaze.

“What?”

“You ran the rope with your left hand,” Casey said. 

Of course Casey would notice that. Severide just barely refrained from rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, didn’t want to make these guys feel too bad,” he said, grinning. 

Casey laughed, but didn’t look entirely appeased. “Yeah, can’t have that. Not like it’s part of your job or anything.” 

Severide shrugged, and moved to look at the next stage of the ropes course. It looked to be a series of tires hanging from two wires to form a bridge. He gave a Casey a dubious look. It didn’t seem difficult. 

Brian and Paul reached the bottom, did a quick head count, then started in on the bridge. It moved, but didn’t really do anything for Severide. He didn’t have a fear of heights, and he’d always had good balance. There were just certain things you had to get over in the department. Heights were first on the list. And they fooled around on seventy-five foot ladders in sixty-five pounds of gear without a harness. 

The course wasn’t intimidating. The problem was how much the thing moved. By the time they reached the wall, Severide’s shoulder had been jerked violently by someone slipping and grabbing at the ropes more times than he could count. In all fairness, he’d had one or two quick grabs himself, and that hadn’t helped either. 

“So, how does this work?” Eric asked Paul, gesturing to the twelve-foot wall. 

Paul grinned. “You get each other over it. The last thing is a slanted ladder down.” 

Severide glanced at Casey, and they nodded. 

“Okay,” Casey said. “I think we should get Sev-Kelly on the wall, he can help pull people up and I can boost. Then I’ll jump and you guys can pull me.”

The idea was met with enthusiasm, and with four people lifting, Severide basically sat on the wall. He hardly had to engage his shoulder to get up. He pulled the first woman up, and realized he’d made a huge mistake. There was no way he could back out now without letting Casey know something was wrong, so he just took the next woman’s hand and pulled her up too. By the time only Casey was left, Severide was nauseous, pain spiking from his shoulder up into his head. 

“Ready?” Casey asked, taking a few steps back. 

Severide nodded. Ready as he’d every be, anyway. He inhaled, bracing himself. 

“Go for it.”

Casey took four steps and launched himself at the wall. He caught Severide’s arm just above the elbow, and Severide closed his hand on Casey’s arm, and then something gave. The scream that tore out of his body was desperate and agonized. He nearly went headfirst off the wall as he lunged for Casey with his left arm, just barely catching him. Stars spun in his eyes, and his vision was graying out at the edges. 

“Someone help him,” Casey shouted, and then the weight wasn’t in his hands anymore, someone else had Casey and Severide collapsed back against the wall, chest heaving as he fought to draw breath. 

“Severide,” Casey said, hand brushing Severide’s forehead. “What’s wrong?” 

It hurt too badly to answer, he just shook his head, moaning softly. He couldn’t tell if his vision had given out or if he just couldn’t keep his eyes open. 

“Is there another way off this damn thing?” Casey asked.

“No, just the ladder,” Brian answered, voice panicked. 

“Call an ambulance,” Casey said. He looped an arm under Severide’s neck, and another under his leg. “Kelly, if you can hear me, I’m gonna carry you down the ladder.”

“Okay,” he forced out. He felt Casey shift him so he was draped over his shoulder, heard the others offer to help and heard Casey’s fierce rejections of assistance. He knew they’d reached the bottom when Casey set him down carefully, spine straight. Casey brushed a hand over his face, and Severide just knew what Casey’s face looked like. He reached up with his left hand, fumbling for Casey’s hand. 

“I’ll be fine,” he rasped out, and his own voice startled him. 

“Yeah you will,” Casey soothed. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.” 

Somewhere between Casey’s quiet assurances and the rising scream of the sirens, Severide blacked out. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide came to in a hospital bed, and he couldn’t turn his head. He nearly panicked, until he realized they had him in a neck brace. He groaned, reaching up to feel the fucking collar they’d put him in, and there was a rush of movement and someone grabbed his hand. 

“You’re awake,” Casey murmured. “Thank God.”

“Was there really a concern?” Severide asked. As far as he could tell, the only good thing about the situation was that he was back on real drugs. He struggled to sit up so he could look at Casey’s face. Casey’s blond hair was disheveled, and his eyes were rimmed red. 

“Jesus, Casey,” he said when he received no reply. “What did they think was wrong?” 

“They couldn’t tell, they thought maybe you’d had a stroke. It didn’t seem right to me, but you never know. But they contacted your doctor in Chicago for a medical history and found out something about a fairly recent neck injury?”

Severide looked down at the bed. He couldn’t stand the look on Casey’s face. 

“Did you get hurt on the job?”

Severide remained silent. 

“Fuck you,” Casey spat, withdrawing his hand from Severide’s. “Just fuck you. You could’ve gotten me killed, do you understand that?” He stood up, pacing across the room. “You could have fucking killed me.” His voice stopped just shy of being a scream. 

Severide blinked, absolutely confused. “We had harnesses on the ropes course, Matt. You were fine.”

Casey ran both hands over his face, bursting into hysterical laughter that contorted his features in pain. 

“I am not talking about the fucking rope course, Kelly. I’m talking about the job. Your arm gave out pulling people over a wall. What if it gave out pulling me from a cave-in? Or Otis? What if it had given out when you came in to rescue me and Herrmann?” 

“It didn’t,” Severide said softly. 

“But it could have,” Casey shouted. “And by all accounts, it’s a fucking miracle it hasn’t.” He dropped back into the chair, hands trembling. He was quiet for a long time, then let his head fall into his hands. “You fucking terrified me, and-”

“I’m sorry,” Severide interrupted. He hadn’t seen Casey so shaken in a long time.

“Shut up and let me talk. You were the first person in the fucking station to talk to me when I started, and Andy came with you, and the two of you were my best friends. I’d never been as close to anyone as I was with you guys, even Hallie. It’s half of why we ended it. And after he died, I was still supposed to have you. But it’s like I lost you in that fucking fire too and I didn’t know how to get you back. After how you acted that day, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.”

Casey took a deep breath, not looking up. “But I’ve been trying, and I feel like whatever I do, either it’s wrong, or you completely undo it. We keep fucking up, but today I thought we had something working again. And when you screamed-” he broke off, voice unsteady. “I just thought, I’m losing him again.” He looked up, eyes intense. “I’m not ready to lose you, you asshole sonofabitch, do you fucking understand me?”

Severide searched for words, mouth working soundlessly. He settled for extending his hand to Casey. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

Casey leaned forward and took his hand, grip so tight it almost hurt. 

“I’ve missed you too.” 

They sat like that in silence. Severide’s mind spun, though whether it was more from the drugs or Casey’s reaction he wasn’t sure. He just wanted to be home, in his element again. Maybe that would help him handle this. 

“Somehow,” Severide said, “I don’t think this is what the chief had in mind when he told us to go bond.” 

Casey snorted, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Yeah,” he hesitated. “Kelly, you know, if you don’t tell him, I have to.”

Severide nodded. “I know. I’m going to tell him,” he sighed. “He’s going to be furious.”

“Not like he doesn’t have a reason,” Casey pointed out, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back of Severide’s hand. 

“I know.” Severide did, too. It’s why he’d kept it a secret for so long. “I’m going to be out until after the New Year.”

“Fuck,” Casey breathed. “And no hope for workman’s comp.”

“Nope,” Severide said. “I’ve known I’d have to pay for it out of pocket. Even if I took them to court, I wouldn’t get anything. It’s been too long.” He’d known better. If he’d said something right away, it would have been one thing. But he hadn’t gone to the doctor until he’d been hurting for almost three weeks. By that point, he was already past when he could have claimed anything. 

Casey said nothing, just moved his chair closer to Severide’s bed. He let the silence stretch on before pulling out his cell phone. “I’m gonna call the airport and get our flight out moved up.”

“Why? I’m good to walk and be in the car, right?”

Casey nodded. “The doctor said absolutely nothing more strenuous than lifting a fork.”

“Well, we should just stay tonight and go to the lectures in the morning and leave when we planned. I’m not gonna go under the knife in Denver, and I won’t be able to have surgery until Monday at the earliest anyway. Leaving early doesn’t do anything. May as well get our money’s worth.” 

Casey gave him an incredulous look, but slid the cell phone back in his pocket. 

“If you want to avoid the chief a little longer, just say so.”

Severide grinned. “You do know me,” he said. 

“That,” Casey laughed, “and there’s no way you actually want to sit through Paul’s spiel on what it is to be a team-member.”

“Basically,” Severide glanced to the door. “Could you grab the nurse for me? I’ll see about getting released, getting drugs, all that.”

Casey nodded, letting Severide’s hand slide from his as he stood up. Severide curled and uncurled his fingers, the feel of Casey’s grip lingering on his skin. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Casey glanced at Severide as they walked into the chief’s office. He was expecting them, but they’d decided not to tell him about Severide’s hospital visit until they were face to face. He took one look at the neck brace and his expression darkened. 

“Did you put him in the hospital?” he asked Casey. 

“It wasn’t me,” Casey protested. 

“You think he’d win?” Severide exclaimed. 

“You’re the one in the neck brace,” the chief said. He shrugged. “What happened out there?”

“Actually,” Severide said, steeling himself, “I wasn’t injured in Colorado. I was injured on the job.”

“I see,” the chief said, voice clipped. “I haven’t had an injury report come across my desk.”

“And you won’t be getting one,” Severide said. “I was injured two months ago.”

The chief’s expression went cold. “Lieutenant Severide,” he said, “is there a reason Lieutenant Casey needs to be present for this conversation?”

Severide glanced to Casey. “No sir.”

“Then Lieutenant, please excuse us.”

“Yes sir,” Casey said, flashing Severide a sympathetic look as he left the room. 

The chief stood up, coming around the front of the desk and leaning against it with his arms crossed.

“How bad is it?” 

Severide glanced down, then met the chief’s piercing gaze. “I’ve fractured a vertebra in my neck. It’s caused some nerve damage, but they don’t think anything major. I need surgery. If it goes well, I’ll be back to work between eight and twelve weeks.”

“How long have you known what’s wrong?”

“Over a month.”

The chief looked at the ground. “Let me get this straight, Lieutenant. You injured yourself on the job. You did not go to the doctor immediately, and when you did, you decided to continue working without notifying me?” He looked up to meet Severide’s eyes

Severide swallowed thickly. “Yes sir.”

“And you chose to make yourself a liability to your team, to disregard protocol and personal safety, for what, exactly?”

“I needed to be working.”

“No,” the chief said evenly, stepping forward. “No you did not. You needed to be getting a surgery and making sure you’re safe for your team to rely on. Do you know the kind of lawsuit you would have faced if someone had died because you were working with a serious injury?”

“Yes sir,” Severide said. 

“You know how to do the paperwork for medical leave. Get out of my office, I can’t look at you right now,” the chief waved towards the door and sat back down at his desk, not looking up once as Severide left the room. 

Casey was waiting at the end of the hall, and he looked up, his eyes a question. Severide waved him away, then turned and walked the opposite direction. Cold disappointment was so much fucking worse than anger, and the chief was really damn good at it. Severide left the station and got in his car. He’d do the paperwork later. For now, he needed to schedule a surgery. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide turned his neck slowly from left to right, fighting the urge to force it past the point of comfort. He’d been out of the hospital for all of two days, and already he was going crazy. For one, the restrictions were insane. He wasn’t even allowed to life a gallon of milk with his right arm, and both times he’d tried with his left had resulted in spectacular messes. 

In the bathroom, Shay was showering. She had a date, which meant Severide would be ordering delivery something. He was effectively helpless in the kitchen, but wasn’t ready to resort to sandwiches. 

There was a knock at the door, and Severide glanced towards the bathroom. The water was still running, so he stood and made his way over to the door. He wasn’t expecting Casey. 

“Hey,” Casey greeted, holding up a pot. “Uh, I made chili, but I made too much. I thought you and Shay might want it.”

Severide wasn’t naïve enough to buy that line, but he wasn’t gonna turn down food Casey made. Also, it meant he didn’t have to buy dinner. 

“Yeah,” he said, just before the silence stretched too long. “Yeah, of course. Come in,” he stepped back, holding the door open for Casey.”On the counter’s fine,” he said, gesturing to the kitchen. 

Casey set you the pot down and turned, hands jammed into his pockets.

“So the surgery went well?”

Severide nodded slightly. “Still sore, limited range of motion, restrictions like you wouldn’t believe,” but they say I’ll be good as new in a few months.”

Casey nodded. “That’s good,” he shifted his weight and moved towards the door. “Well, I should probably go.”

Severide blinked, almost hurt but not quite there. Had Casey seriously just come by to drop off food? He lived on the other side of the city. Though, Casey did say he’d moved. Severide had no idea where he lived anymore.

“Casey,” Shay greeted brightly from behind them. She was tying the belt on her robe, blonde hair falling in her face. 

“Hey,” he said “how are you?”

“Great,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

“Karinne, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Casey brought chili,” Severide cut in. 

Shay’s smile broadened. “You’re a lifesaver,” she moved closer and patted Severide’s cheek. “Kelly’s just so defenseless now. I’m always worried he’s going to starve when I leave the apartment.”

Severide batted her hand away as she and Casey laughed.

“Stick around a while,” Severide said to Casey. “I get crazy bored.”

Casey hesitated, but nodded. “Sure.”

Shay glanced between the two of them. “I’m gonna go get ready.” 

She headed down the hall and Casey moved away from the door. Severide watched Casey scan the apartment, noting the subtle changes since the last time he’d been over. The last time Casey had been in the apartment, Andy had been too. Severide shut down that thought and stepped back. 

“Want something to drink?”

“I’d take a beer,” Casey followed Severide to the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “So no collar?”

“Nope. I’ve got a plate in my neck though.” It had been the better choice, in Severide’s opinion. The recovery process was faster, and he had more mobility in the meantime. He didn’t mind having a piece of hardware in his neck.

Casey winced and took the beer. Severide watched as he tipped it back and drank, throat moving as he swallowed. He didn’t know what they were doing, but Casey didn’t seem to either. Jesus, when had it gotten so hard to be friends with someone?

“Wanna watch something?” Severide asked. 

Casey shrugged. “Sure.”

They both dropped onto the sofa, a wide space between them. Severide flipped the TV on. It was a rerun of Law and Order and he left it, glancing at Casey for signs of disapproval. Seeing none, he set the remote down. 

“So, seeing anyone?” Casey asked, tracing a circle on the armrest. 

“Nope. Shay’s all the woman I need. What about-“ Severide cut off abruptly, mentally cursing himself. “You and Hallie trying to work things out?”

“We’re still not together. We talk, sometimes, but,” Casey shrugged. “I don’t know, we’re just not on the same page.” He took a long drink of his beer. “I guess we’ll see.”

Shay came down the stairs, eye-catching in a red halter-top and skinny jeans. 

“Have fun,” Severide said. 

Shay smiled brightly. “I will. Thanks for the food, Casey.” 

He grinned, holding up his beer in a mock salute. “No problem, enjoy your date,” he looked over at Severide as Shay closed the door behind her. “So what are you planning to do for the next few months?”

Severide exhaled heavily, moving to run his hand through his hair but stopping mid-action as his shoulder pulled. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Um, I haven’t really thought about it,” he laughed half-heartedly. “I guess I’ll catch up on some TV.”

Casey fell silent and took another swig of beer. Severide wished he could drink, but the painkillers meant that was a no-go. The silence that settled over them was far from comfortable, and Severide briefly wondered why he’d invited Casey to stay. Before, they had occupied a companionable space where they could bullshit about nothing for hours. Now, well, now Severide could barely look at Casey when he spoke, let alone make small talk.

“The chief had me summarize the team-building weekend for him,” Casey offered.

“Yeah? How was that?”

Casey shrugged. “Well enough. I told him we worked things out, though,” Casey huffed a laugh, “I’m not sure he believed me.” He stared straight ahead at the TV. “Was I right?”

Severide hesitated, searching Casey’s face for cues on how to answer. He still didn’t know how to just be around Casey, but they had worked well together in Colorado. The anger was gone out of their fight, replaced by an uncomfortable sadness and wearying sense of loss. 

“I think so,” he said, looking away from Casey.

There was a long silence, then Casey stood up. Severide fought down truly a unreasonable flash of disappointment. Awkward though it was, he didn’t want to be alone just then. 

“Are you hungry?” Casey asked. “I’m gonna grab some chili since you’re holding me hostage.”

“If you have somewhere to be-“ Severide began.

Casey cut him off. “Kidding. So, food?”

“Sure,” Severide said, watching Casey as far as his limited range of motion allowed. 

“Bowls still to the left of the fridge?” Casey called. 

Severide twisted on the sofa as he could watch Casey. “Yeah.” 

It felt foreign to see Casey in his kitchen, grabbing bowls and using his microwave. Casey caught his eye and flashed a smile. Severide returned it, then turned back to the TV. When Casey came back into the room, he handed Severide a bowl of chili and sat down again, a bit closer than before. 

Severide breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell. He took a bite and his eyes closed in pleasure. 

“Jesus Christ, Casey. You’re wasted as a firefighter.” 

Casey laughed, pleased. “Glad you like it. It’s hard to find time to cook. Or, you know, motivation when I’ve got the time.”

“I get that,” Severide said. “Of course,” he continued, joking, “it doesn’t help that the last time I tried cooking, Shay threatened to break her lease if I did it again.” 

Casey laughed, abrupt and genuine. His eyes danced as he finished his beer. 

“She’d do it, too.”

“I know,” Severide said, raising his hands defensively, “I haven’t touched a pan since.” 

Casey shook his head. “You’re full of shit, Severide.” 

They managed to fill another hour and a half with conversation that was only semi-awkward before Casey stretched his arms out in front of him, pushing to his feet and picking up the bowls off the coffee table. 

“I should get home. I’m pretty tired.” 

Severide nodded, following suit and getting to his feet. Casey set the bowls in the sink and rinsed them out. When he turned around and saw Severide watching him, he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. 

“Thanks,” Severide said. “For the food, and the company. It’s gonna be a long few months.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” Casey said. He headed towards the door. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Severide said, watching Casey all the way down the hall before he shut the door behind him. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two weeks out from the surgery, Severide was ready to jump out a window. Apparently they wanted to handle him with kid gloves, just to be on the safe side. He understood, genuinely, but he’d counted on being able to drive. Instead, Shay was driving him home from the doctor instead of the other way around, and he’d be reassessed in another two weeks. He was healing well though, as if that was some kind of fucking consolation. 

“I can see if someone can cover for me tonight,” Shay offered. 

Severide bit back the harsh response that immediately sprang to mind and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Thanks, but I’m a big boy,” he winced, it was still sharper than he wanted it to be. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Shay’s lips tighten. She had the patience of a saint, but he knew he was wearing on her. 

“Okay, fine,” there was a pause. “You know they’re just trying to make sure you can actually go back to your job, right? It’s not like you tore a rotator cuff, they put a plate in your neck.”

“I know,” he sighed. “It doesn’t help.”

“I get it,” Shay said. 

They finished the drive home in silence. 

 

Severide was halfway through his third episode of Lost when, over the cacophony of the episode, he heard someone knock at the door. Sighing, he stood and wandered over to answer it. 

“Casey,” he greeted, surprised. 

“Hey,” he seemed hesitant. “I’ve got pasta salad and cookies.” 

Severide stepped back to let Casey into the apartment. “Got the night off?”

“Yeah,” Casey pulled two containers out of the cardboard box he was holding and set them on the counter. “Are you busy?”

Severide bristled. “Yeah, I’ve got so much going on I barely have time to sleep. My calendar is just fucking packed.” 

Casey swallowed thickly and nodded. “Okay. I’ll go.” 

“No,” Severide put his hand on Casey’s arm, feeling the muscle flex through the fabric of Casey’s shirt. “I’m being a dick. I’m so bored I can’t stand it, and today the doctor told me I don’t get to drive for another two weeks at least.” 

Casey’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

“Hang out for a while. I’m watching Lost.”

“What season?”

“Three,” Severide answered, walking over to the counter to look at the food. Casey followed him into the kitchen, leaning against the sink as Severide opened the cabinet to reach for a plate. His shoulder was sore from the physical therapy and seized up as he pulled the plates down. 

Casey lunged forward and caught the plates as they slipped from Severide’s hands. 

“You okay?” Casey asked, setting the plates on the counter. 

“I’m fine,” Severide snapped. 

Casey brought his hands up to Severide’s shoulder, rubbing carefully. He was strong, his hands warm. Severide remembered seeing Casey help Herrmann work out a knot in his calf almost a year ago. It had piqued his curiosity, but he’d not asked. The way Casey’s fingers worked the stressed muscle of his shoulder felt better than the physical therapist, and Severide relaxed somewhat. 

“Better?” Casey asked, softening the pressure until he broke contact. 

“Thanks,” Severide said gruffly, picking the plates back up and crossing the kitchen to serve himself and Casey. They sat on the couch, and Severide turned the episode back on as he started eating. 

“Good?” Casey asked midway through. 

“Mmm,” Severide nodded, mouth full. He swallowed, and nodded again. “Yeah, it’s good.” He glanced sideways at Casey. “You know, you don’t have to bring food to come over.” 

Casey grinned around a mouthful of pasta, chewed and swallowed before answering. 

“I wasn’t sure.” His tone was just on this side of serious, and Severide chuckled. 

“Whatever.” 

They got through two episodes of Lost before Casey stretched expansively and looked over at Severide.

“Do you have any video games?”

Severide shook his head. “I don’t have a console, never had the time.” 

Casey shook his head. “You’re a sad excuse for a man.”

Severide laughed. “Sorry. We could play poker, if you’re tired of the show.” 

Casey shrugged. “Whatever, I was just wondering.” 

Severide glanced at the TV. He didn’t know what the hell to do with Casey once he had him, but he appreciated the company. Casey didn’t hover, and he didn’t constantly ask how Severide was feeling. It was kind of nice. 

They finished another two episodes before Casey left. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide had an idea of who to expect when he opened the door. Otis and a couple of the other guys had been by the day before, but Shay had just left for work and either Casey had an uncanny sixth sense or he was coordinating with her. 

“Hey,” Casey held up a cardboard box, grinning broadly.

“Let me guess,” Severide said, stepping back to let him in. “Food?”

“And an X-box 360,” Casey said, clearly pleased with himself. I have Assassin’s Creed, Halo 4 and Call of Duty: Black Ops.” 

Severide laughed, “Alright,” he peered into the box. “What’s for dinner?”

“Lemon garlic chicken and mashed potatoes,” Casey said, setting the food out on the counter. “Also brownies,” he surveyed the counter, then tipped his head at Severide. “When are you off the painkillers?” 

“Already am,” Severide said. “Been clean for two weeks,” he joked. 

“Damn it,” Casey said. “I knew I should have called.”

“Why?” Severide asked. 

“Because I’ve got a bottle of wine that would go really well with this.” 

Severide laughed. “Grab a damn beer from the fridge, Casey.” 

He watched Casey bend over to pull the beer from the bottom shelf, idly noting the lithe figure under Casey’s loose clothing. Shaking himself, Severide served himself and moved to the living room. Casey followed momentarily, setting down two beers and his plate and then returning to the kitchen for the Xbox. 

Severide picked up the box for Call of Duty and read the description. 

“You realize I’m gonna kick your ass at this, right?” 

“I don’t think so,” Casey said, shaking his head. “I’m pretty much an expert.”

Severide snorted. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“You’re on.” Casey dropped onto the couch next to Severide. “So, managing to stay busy?”

“Like hell,” Severide shook his head, taking a bite of the mashed potatoes. “Some of the other guys have come by, but generally I’m fucking bored.” 

“You should get a hobby,” Casey said, grinning as he brought his beer bottle to his lips. 

“Like what?” Severide asked, digging into the chicken. “Knitting? There’s not much I can do with the shoulder.” 

“Hell if I know,” Casey said, shrugging. “Start reading through the hundred greatest novels or something.” 

Severide laughed sharply, tipping his beer towards Casey. “I’ll stick with TV shows that ran too long, thanks,” he drank deeply. 

When they were done eating, Casey brought a plate of brownies into the room and set up the Xbox. They started with Call of Duty, good-naturedly ribbing each other as they battled it out. Casey got tired of getting his ass handed to him, and they switched to Halo, where the roles were promptly reversed. 

“You did something to my controller,” Severide accused as Casey killed him yet again. 

“You just can’t take losing,” Casey teased. 

Severide opened his mouth to answer, and realized that he was about to sound like a total asshole. They were having a good time, and Severide didn’t want to fuck that up. Their relationship was firmly in the friends category for the first time in months. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Whatever. Let’s try this Assassin’s Creed thing.”

Casey got up to change the disks. “Mind grabbing me another beer?” he asked. 

Severide stood and wandered into the kitchen. It hadn’t escaped him that Casey was spending large amounts of free time hanging out with someone he’d been fighting with until a couple weeks ago. Or that Casey found time to cook enough for Shay and Severide to have a meal or two’s worth of leftovers. He wondered idly if Casey was lonely. The thought was vaguely unpleasant. He didn’t want to be a last resort. 

He grabbed two beers and returned to the living room. It made sense, of course. He was something of a captive audience, and he wouldn’t question Casey’s willingness to spend time with him. The other guys would start to wonder, they’d ask where Hallie was, and why they never went to Casey’s place. 

“Why are you here?” he blurted, setting the beers on the coffee table and staring down at Casey, who was sitting on the floor messing with the Xbox. So much for keeping the peace. 

“Is this a trick question?” Casey asked, teasing. 

“What are you doing here?” Severide rephrased, voice taking on an edge. Casey’s eyes went guarded. 

“Um,” his gaze darted around before he met Severide’s eyes again, “you’re gonna have to help me out. I don’t know what you’re looking for.” 

Severide picked up his beer and walked across the room to lean against the railing of the staircase. 

“You don’t have to treat me like some charity case, okay? I can take care of myself,” he took a long drink from the bottle. It was so easy to fall back into old habits. 

“I guess I missed something,” Casey said. “You’re the one who asked me to stay the first time.”

“I was bored,” Severide said harshly.

“And the second,” Casey pointed out. 

“So what?” 

“So, you clearly wanted me around.” 

“Really?” Severide asked, turning to face Casey. “Look, I’ve got plenty of friends in the department. You’re hardly the only one who comes by, don’t do me any favors.”

Casey shook his head. “You’re fucking unbelievable,” he pushed to his feet and grabbed his coat. Halfway to the door, he stopped, spinning on his heel to face Severide again. “What was it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What switch flipped in your crazy head that made you decide you don’t actually want to be civil?”

“Is that what this was?” Severide asked, hating himself with every word that fell from his lips. “Being civil?”

“Well you know, I thought it was working on being friends again,” Casey said, throwing up his arms in exasperation, “but clearly I was off base. Go fucking figure, right? Casey reads Severide wrong, call the Sun-Times.” He shook his head. 

“Go to hell,” Severide snapped, finishing the beer in one long drink. 

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” Casey asked. “Just throwing people away.”

“Says you,” Severide said. “You’re the one who left your fiancée and moved out and now you’re trying to fill some emotional void with anybody who’ll give you the time of day.” It was a low blow, and Severide wished like hell he could take the words back.

Casey’s shoulders slumped. “Right, because I’m so pathetic I have to come hang out with you because nobody else can stand me.”

“That’s not what I-”

“Fuck off, Severide.” Casey left without giving Severide time to say anything else. 

Severide looked around his apartment, the food on the counter, game waiting on the menu screen. He walked over to the coffee table and picked up Casey’s untouched second beer. 

“What the fuck just happened?” he muttered, dropping onto the couch and nursing the beer as the title screen of Assassin’s Creed played the same soundtrack on repeat. 

 

When he woke up on the couch, it was to Shay putting the food away and muttering something about sleepover etiquette. He stumbled upstairs to bed and crashed out again. He dreamed of Casey’s face before he’d slammed the door shut. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide made it two days before he sat down to play Call of Duty. It felt sort of weird to use Casey’s Xbox given their fight, but Casey hadn’t bothered to take it. Shay didn’t say anything when Severide invited her to play with him, but her eyes spoke volumes as she sat down. 

He made it another week before he pulled his cell phone out dialed Casey. He figured one of these days he needed to change Casey’s contact name from “Lieutenant Asshole.” The phone rang, and rang, and just as Severide pulled it away from his head he heard,

“Casey.”

“If I pay for the groceries, want to come over and cook?” 

“Severide, I’m really not up to games tonight.”

“No games.”

He could hear Casey breathing, and the line didn’t go dead so he knew Casey was still there. 

“Fine,” Casey said. “I’ll be there in half an hour.” 

Severide was waiting outside in less than fifteen minutes. Casey pulled up to the curb, and Severide climbed in the passenger seat. There was no exchange of greetings before Casey put the car back into gear and drove down the street, making a series of turns that took them to the Jewel-Osco Severide never went to. They went into the store, and Casey grabbed a cart on his way to the produce section.

“What are you making?” Severide asked, watching as Casey picked three avocados. 

“Quesadillas,” Casey said. 

Severide could tell from the tone that Casey wasn’t ready for the talking part of the evening just yet. He resigned himself to a silent shopping trip, and played the observer as Casey grabbed peppers and onions. Casey hesitated, and then pulled a bunch of cilantro. They wove through the store, Casey moving with purpose from aisle to aisle. When they reached checkout, Severide sucked in a breath and forced himself to flip through a magazine as the cashier rang everything up. 

“Your total is sixty dollars and seventy cents,” the young woman said, smiling brightly. “Do you have a members card?” 

Casey provided a number, and the girl entered it in. 

“Actually, that brings your total to fifty-one forty.” 

Severide handed her his card and turned to say something to Casey, but he’d already moved away to load the bags into the cart. Severide watched him as the woman swiped his card. The muscles in Casey’s forearms tightened as he picked up four bags at once and set them down. He wasn’t showing off, but the display just served to remind Severide that he was still on lifting restrictions. 

They made their way outside, and Casey loaded the car. He didn’t look at Severide, and Severide hoped that Casey didn’t think he was being a lazy bastard. It wasn’t until they got to the apartment that he felt really bad for being unable to help. 

“I would help,” Severide began. 

“I know you can’t,” Casey said, and Severide thought he sounded slightly less cold, but he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things. 

It took Casey two trips to bring everything upstairs, and Severide stayed out of his way. Once everything was out of the bags and loosely grouped on the counters, he approached the kitchen. 

“Can I help?”

Casey shook his head. “I got it; I’ll let you know if I need you.” He gestured vaguely at the living room without looking up. “Just wait.”

Severide flipped the TV on and dropped onto the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. In the kitchen, Casey was clattering around with pots and pans, probably some of the stuff he’d left the three times he’d brought food over and not taken the leftovers with him. Forty-five minutes went by before Severide stood up and wandered back to the kitchen. 

Casey was just flipping a quesadilla, and he gave Severide a quick glance.

“Can you pull a couple plates down?”

Severide did as he was asked, setting the plates next to the stove so Casey could reach them without moving. 

“Thanks,” he said, sliding the quesadilla onto the top plate. He moved the next quesadilla into the pan and tipped his head towards the plate. “That one’s yours.”

Severide took the plate to the table and sat down, watching Casey finish his own food. Casey’s shoulders had bled the tension he’d been holding earlier, but when he turned around with his food, his face was still a mask. They ate in silence, not making eye contact. Severide flexed his right hand, feeling the muscle work to tighten up. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Casey looked up. He’d clearly been out of it. 

Severide did not want to repeat himself, but he swallowed, meeting Casey’s eyes. “I said I’m sorry.” 

Casey held Severide’s gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

Severide bit the inside of his cheek, inhaled deeply. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Casey looked back at his plate. “We’re good.”

Severide hesitated, mouth working silently as he tried to formulate any one of the hundreds of thoughts screaming through his mind, most of which came back to the simple idea that Casey’s forgiveness came far too easily. 

Casey looked up. “Unless we need to,” he searched for the word, “talk, or something.” 

“No, no,” Severide said, returning his attention to his food. “All good.”

“Okay then.” Casey finished his quesadilla and took his plate to the sink. Severide came up behind him less than a minute later. 

“Thanks, by the way.” 

“For cooking?” Casey took Severide’s plate and washed it too.

“Yeah,” Severide said. “And for,” he shrugged, “you know.” 

Casey’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “It takes too much energy to fight with you, Kelly.”

The use of his given name caught Severide off guard. Casey rarely used it, and he was trying to figure out why he had when Casey abruptly left the kitchen. 

“I’ve got to get home, I work in the morning.” 

“Do you want to take your Xbox?”

Casey shrugged as he picked up his jacket. “I’ll be over soon to use it, right?”

Severide shrugged but nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Then hang onto it,” Casey smiled tiredly. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” Severide replied, and he watched Casey all the way down the hall before shutting the door. He wandered back into the kitchen, but there was nothing to put away. Casey was neat, he cleaned up as he worked, and he washed everything as he finished with it. Severide ran a hand over his face and went to take a shower. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The weekend before Thanksgiving, Severide found himself deeply resenting the long hours Shay had to pull. Normally he was working the same kind of shifts and didn’t notice. It was different when he wasn’t working. He’d been approved to drive, but he didn’t have anywhere to go. He wasn’t really pouting, but only barely. There was just something pretty damn depressing about sitting around your apartment alone when half the city was gone to visit family and the other half was hosting family. 

He was just about to see what was on TV when there was a loud pounding on his door. When he opened it, Casey walked in, a broad grin on his face. 

“Get your coat,” Casey said. He glanced at Severide’s t-shirt and jeans. “And maybe a scarf or hat or something, we’re going to be outside.”

“How do you keep getting up here? Did Shay give you the building code?” They’d hung out once since Severide apologized, and even before that Casey hadn’t ever buzzed up to announce his presence.

Casey shook his head. “Good timing, I always catch someone going in or out. Come on, traffic’s a bitch and I parked in the loading zone.” 

Severide raised an eyebrow. “So what are we doing?” 

Casey chuckled. “If you can’t think of it, it’ll be a surprise. Grab your stuff and let’s go.”

Severide went into his room and pulled out his heaviest wool coat and a pair of leather gloves. He almost passed on the hat, then grabbed it and returned to the living room. 

Casey grinned. “Great, let’s go.”

“Do I need to bring anything for, whatever we’re doing?” 

“Nope,” Casey opened the door and waited for Severide. 

“Pushy bastard,” Severide said, grabbing his keys and locking the door behind him. 

Casey hadn’t been ticketed in the five minutes he’d been inside, and they began driving towards downtown, fighting increasingly congested traffic. Finally Casey turned into a parking garage, forked over the twenty-five dollars, and spent fifteen minutes looking for a spot. 

“We’re actually pretty close,” he said, pulling his hat and gloves on as he got out of the car. Severide followed him, desperately trying to think of what was going on. Then it clicked, the Saturday before Thanksgiving. 

“The parade?” he asked, glancing at Casey.

“There are fireworks,” Casey said. 

“Which is why we’re normally on high alert,” Severide gave Casey a calculating look. “How the hell did you get the night off?”

Casey shrugged. “Just shook out that way. You’ve still never been to this thing, right?” 

Severide blinked. Most Chicagoans had been to the Magnificent Mile parade at least once, but in a conversation at the station last year, he’d casually mentioned he’d never been. He was surprised Casey remembered. 

“Yeah, never been.” 

Casey smiled and shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his lined leather jacket. 

They walked the ten blocks to Michigan Avenue, fighting through the crowd from about two blocks out. Once they hit Michigan Avenue, Casey wove them along until they were less than a block from the river. 

“You know,” Severide said, voice carrying over the cacophony, “they only do this to send people into the stores along here.” 

Casey laughed, the noise getting lost in the crowd. “Yeah, I know. But there are fireworks.” 

Severide shook his head, grinning at Casey’s enthusiasm. They found a spot with a clear view of both the parade route and the river and stopped, talking intermittently, but mostly taking in the electric atmosphere and crowd energy. 

“Hey,” Casey said, right up against Severide’s ear. “There’s a coffee vendor over there. I’m gonna go grab a drink. Want something?” 

Severide shrugged, “Hot cider, if he’s got it.” 

Casey nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Minutes later, he returned, two large drinks in hand. 

“Here you go,” he said, handing Severide one of the cups. “It’s crazy hot.” 

Severide grinned and waved a gloved hand. “I’m good.” 

Casey made a face and turned back to the parade route. “Hey, look,” he said, pointing way down. They could just barely begin to hear the sound of the parade, and make out the giant float Mickey Mouse rode on. More impressive though, were the Christmas lights that flared to life as the parade moved along. It was gorgeous, truly spectacular to watch Michigan Avenue light up.   
Severide had been on Michigan Avenue in the Christmas season before, but it was different, watching the lights come on strand by strand. 

By the time the parade actually reached them, the crowd noise was so loud they could barely hear the gaudy Christmas tunes the parade bands were churning out. Float after float went by, some more impressive than others. High school marching bands in immaculate Christmas uniforms strode by, area churches sang carols and were immediately followed by the cheerleaders for the Bears, a group which was met with cheers that were almost deafening. Casey laughed and bumped Severide with his shoulder. Severide grinned back. 

The parade went on for a full hour, and Severide was actually glad of how tightly packed the sidewalk was. It was the only thing even pretending to keep him warm after standing still for so long in almost zero-degree weather. He’d long since finished his cider, and the parade was winding down. Suddenly the air over the Chicago River erupted in a blast of color. 

The crowd noise spiked, then settled down as the display got into full swing. There were intricate shapes, a Christmas tree, a heart, and stars were only some of them. Severide had always idly wondered how they pulled that off. It was one of the best displays he’d seen in a long time, and as it built into the finale, noise roaring and color blurring into color until it was a wall of light, Severide felt centered. 

When the show was over, smoke rising from the launch site miles into the air, Michigan Avenue almost unsettlingly quiet in the absence of the fireworks, Casey turned to Severide and tipped his head towards the side street. They moved away from Michigan Avenue first, then cut back across to where they needed to be. 

“So,” Casey said when they got to the car, “fun?” 

“Hell yeah,” Severide said, grinning. “Thanks for dragging me out of the house.” 

“Hey,” Casey shrugged, “you’re a cheap date,” he flashed Severide a grin and turned his attention back to the road. 

“Yeah, except for the thirty dollar parking,” Severide pointed out, laughing. 

“I didn’t feel like taking the train,” Casey said, switching lanes to avoid a bus. “Even when I’m not really moving in traffic, I prefer having my own car. The illusion of mobility, or something like that.” 

“Don’t get all existential on me, Casey. Not sure I can handle that.” 

They both laughed, and Severide leaned back against the seat. “Seriously though, this was cool.” 

Casey caught his eye and nodded. “Good.” 

They spent the rest of the ride arguing the high points of the parade and fireworks show, and Casey pulled up in front of Severide’s apartment, parallel parking into the loading zone. 

“You wanna come up?” 

Casey shook his head. “I can’t tonight.”

Severide shrugged. “Right on. Drive safe.” 

Casey gave him a mock salute and pulled away. Severide watched the car turn at the stop sign, then headed up into his apartment. It wasn’t exactly how he’d seen his evening going, but hey, he wasn’t complaining. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Christmas Eve, Severide went to the station. It had been Casey’s idea, and though he’d been non-committal at the time, the idea had grown on him. There were white lights bordering the windows, and there was a large wreath on the door. He’d heard there’d been talk of putting a star up, but they’d apparently vetoed that. 

It was the first time he’d been back since the surgery. He’d figured coming around would just piss him off and make him miss it even more than he already did, but looking around inside, it felt good to be back. 

“Hey,” Shay greeted, grinning widely and coming over to hug him. “I’m glad you came,” she said. 

The rest of the guys followed suit, a string of clasped hands and manly one-shouldered hugs that were a little too careful of an injury they didn’t know much about. 

“We’re just about to eat,” Otis said. 

The Christmas Eve potluck was a big station tradition, and most people really got into it. Severide had almost stopped by Wal-Mart for a plate of cookies, but had decided against braving the insanity in what would be an obvious afterthought. He followed the others to the kitchen, catching up with his guys from the rescue squad over spiral ham and mashed potatoes.

Midway through the meal, a space suddenly appeared to Severide’s left, and Casey sat down next to him. 

“Hey,” Severide said. 

“I hoped you’d come,” Casey said. “I brought your present.” 

Severide grinned. “Me too, come on out to the car, I’ll give it to you now.” 

They stood, grabbing their coats as they headed back into the freezing weather. Severide had debated waiting until the next time Casey came over to give him the present, but he was glad he’d decided to bring it with him. 

“Here,” he grabbed the carefully wrapped box off the passenger seat and handed it to Casey. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for Casey to open it. He’d spent a long time trying to figure out what to get him, but he thought he’d done well. 

Casey opened the box, mouth curving into a smile as he read the bottle. Glenlivet 18 was a damn good scotch, and it hadn’t been particularly cheap. Severide had been proud of the selection. 

“Thanks, Severide,” Casey said, smile making his blue eyes dance. He pulled an envelope out of his coat and handed it to Severide. “Merry Christmas.”

Severide opened the envelope and stopped dead. He looked up at Casey, stunned. 

“How did you get these?”

Casey just grinned. “You like them?”

“Um, yeah,” Severide said. Twenty-first row tickets at the fifty-yard line to the Bears-Packers game. “God, Matt,” he said, shaking his head. Suddenly the scotch didn’t seem so impressive, and he felt a twinge of guilt. These were expensive tickets to begin with, and Casey had definitely paid over face value for them.

“Anyway,” Casey said. “Wanna go in? Dawson made pie, and she says it’s better than mine.” 

“That’s one hell of a statement,” Severide laughed, following Casey inside. 

Dawson’s pie was good, but it wasn’t as good as Casey’s. Casey and Severide agreed to protect her ego and keep that particular opinion to themselves. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide’s alarm went off, and he reached over, batting at the snooze button. He opened his eyes blearily when he realized that it wasn’t working, suddenly process that it was his phone ringing. He fumbled for it, barely catching it before it stopped ringing. The digital red letters of his clock screamed that it was just before two in the morning. 

“Severide,” he mumbled, falling back against the pillows. It had better be damn good. 

“Hey, it’s Matt,” the voice on the other end said. 

“You better be dying, or I’m hanging up.” 

“The power’s out on my block,” Casey said. 

Severide’s first thought was so what, but he waited for Casey to continue.

“It’s minus twenty-two. I was wondering if I could come crash on your couch.”

“Sure,” Severide ran a hand over his face. “Don’t buzz up when you get here, don’t wanna wake Shay up, just call me again.”

“Okay,” Casey said. “I’ll be there in a few.” 

Severide got up and stumbled over to his closet. He pulled a comforter and pillow from the top shelf, stuffed way back in the corner, and dropped them on the couch. Then he went back to his room and lay down again. The phone woke him up again when it rang.

“Be right down,” he said, making his way downstairs with a steadying hand on the rail. 

Outside, under the building light, Casey was rubbing his arms briskly, breath a plume of vapor in front of him. 

“Come inside,” Severide said, motioning Casey over. 

He practically bolted through the door, whole body shaking. 

“Jesus,” Severide said, leading Casey upstairs. “When did the power go out?”

“It was off when I got home. I kept hoping they’d get it going, but I couldn’t sleep it was so cold.” 

When they got inside, Severide pointed to the couch. “There’s you. I’m going to bed.” 

Casey nodded, he looked exhausted. Severide briefly wondered how safe it had been for him to drive icy roads in his state, but wandered to his bedroom. Back under his comforter, he was asleep within minutes. 

 

Severide woke up to someone shaking his shoulder gently. 

“Kelly,” Shay said, “hey, Kelly.” 

He opened one eye, glowering at her. “What?”

She grinned. “Glaring is just cute when you only do it with one eye. Why is Matt on our couch?”

Severide blinked. Casey? Oh, right. “His power’s out.”

“So?”

“So it was record-breaking cold or something like that, it’s January. He wanted somewhere warm to crash.” 

“So he called you.”

Severide refused to entertain any of the implications her tone clearly hinted at. Besides, if her suggestive line of thinking had any merit, Casey would not be on the couch. Severide’s train of thought screeched to a halt. He clearly needed coffee.

“Yes, he called me. Out, Shay.” 

She grinned. “Of all the people in the station,” she continued. 

“I’m the only one he could be sure didn’t have anything important to do in the morning,” Severide said firmly. “Out, I’m gonna get dressed.”

Shay laughed as she left the room, heading to the kitchen to grab a yoghurt. Severide glanced out at the living room. Casey was still asleep on the couch, curled up under the comforter. Severide assumed that if he had somewhere to be, he’d have set an alarm. He shrugged stepping back into the room. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t waking the guy up. Casey obviously needed it if he could sleep through Shay grinding coffee beans. 

Severide got dressed and went to grab a cup of coffee. Casey was just starting to blink awake, stretching out expansively. Severide noted the way his hair stuck fifteen different ways, and stifled a grin. 

“Coffee?” he asked casually. Casey looked a bit uncomfortable, and he wanted to put him back at ease. It hadn’t been a big deal for him to crash on the couch. 

“Uh, sure,” Casey said. 

When Severide looked back at the living room, Casey had neatly folded the comforter and set it next to the pillow. 

“Thanks,” Casey said as he took the mug Severide had poured for him. They both drank straight black first thing in the morning. It was just easier that way at work. Casey drank deeply, pawing a hand through his hair. Severide had the irrational urge to ask him to stop, and shook his head. He definitely needed the coffee. 

“So do you know why the power’s down?” Severide asked. 

Casey lifted a shoulder. “They said probably a downed tree or something stupid like that. God bless Chicago, you know.” 

Severide chuckled. “Yeah, right?” He raised his mug. “Here’s to the greatest city on earth.” 

Casey laughed. “I’ll drink to that,” he finished his mug on the toast. “Thanks for letting me crash here,” he said. 

“Yeah, no big deal,” Severide said, finishing his own cup. “Anytime.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide parked on the street in front of Casey’s house and hesitated. He hadn’t exactly warned Casey that he was coming. The conversation may have been more him mentioning that Casey had left a pot at his apartment, and Casey saying he’d need to get it back. The idea that Severide could bring it over hadn’t really been discussed, but he was bored, and so he’d gotten in the car and wandered around the jumbled suburban neighborhood until he’d gotten to Casey’s. 

He got out and walked up to the door, hesitating at the sound of music inside. Taking a deep breath, he knocked twice, loudly. The music cut off, and there was a long pause before the door cracked open. 

“Kelly,” Casey said, surprised but apparently not displeased. “Come in,” he said, stepping back. Severide glanced at the violin and bow he held in his off hand. 

“I didn’t know you played,” he said, nodding his head towards the instrument. 

“Yeah,” Casey said, setting the violin down and rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a hobby.” 

Severide nodded. “I brought your pot,” he said, handing Casey the cookware. It was the lamest excuse he’d ever come up with for anything. Ever. Not only was Casey over once if not twice a week, to hear him tell it half his kitchen supplies was at Severide’s anyway.

Casey raised an eyebrow but put the pot away in the cabinet. “You want something to drink?” he asked. “I’ve got a few kinds of beer, water, milk,” he shrugged. 

“I’m good,” Severide said, glancing around. He’d never been inside Casey’s place. He’d picked Casey up from his house for the football game, but hadn’t gone in. It was a nice place, big for one person, in Severide’s opinion, but nice. 

He glanced back over to the violin resting on its stand. “You should play something,” he said casually, not quite looking at Casey. 

“I haven’t played for an audience in a long time,” Casey said, moving to put the violin away. 

“I’m not really an audience, Matt,” Severide said, dropping onto the couch. “It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

“Yeah,” Casey said, “right,” but he picked the violin up and sat down on the other edge of the couch. 

The piece began slowly, a series of darting notes that gradually lengthened out and took on a mournful tint. Casey had situated himself so he was looking away from Severide as he played, but Severide could still see his face. His eyes had closed, brow furrowing in concentration on more complicated sections. 

In the warm lighting, Casey looked stunning, features relaxing as the piece came into itself. His fingers danced along the neck of the violin, body rocking ever so slightly with the movement of the bow. His lips moved slightly, counting or remembering lyric, Severide couldn’t quite make out. 

The music was haunting, but what gave Severide the chills was the realization in that moment that he was kind of in love with Casey. Yes, he was pretty damn sure the song was the most moving thing he’d ever heard, but it wasn’t just that. Watching him play was the entirety of everything Severide had come to rely on. His patience with the piece, the passion he played with, the understated skill he’d never talk about that shone through everything. 

Severide sucked in a breath, remembering the kiss they’d never talked about. Casey had been happy, probably relieved not to talk about it. There wasn’t a chance in hell he returned Severide’s feelings. He looked away from Casey, trying to compose himself. On the bookshelf next to the couch was the bottle of scotch he’d gotten Casey for Christmas. It sat next to a commendation from the mayor and an old photo of Casey with his parents. The bottle was unopened. 

Casey brought the piece to its conclusion, and turned to Severide, expectant. 

“You don’t drink scotch,” Severide said, meeting Casey’s eyes and holding the gaze. 

“No,” Casey shook his head slowly, smiling. “Not really.”

Severide nodded. 

“I’d drink a glass with you,” Casey said, and his words sounded careful. 

“Sure,” Severide said, following Casey into the kitchen. He watched as Casey reached to pull two glasses from the cabinet, followed his movement as he opened the bottle and poured them each a glass. 

“Here,” Casey said, handing Severide his. 

They each took a sip, and Severide savored the flavor of the drink. It really was a shame Casey didn’t have an appreciation for scotch. It was a damn good drink, and this bottle was basically perfection. 

“So what’d you play?” Severide asked as they wandered over to the couch. 

“I’ve kind of messed with an old song called O’Donnell’s Lament,” Casey said. “The original is really beautiful, but it’s kind of short. I’ve played around with it for a long time, adding random stuff,” he shrugged. 

“Pretty impressive,” Severide said. “I took piano for a couple years as a kid. I could probably play chopsticks today, but that’s about it.”

Casey laughed, taking another sip of his scotch. “Yeah, my parents made me pick it up, but I grew to like it over the years. Now it’s what I do to relax.” 

Severide nodded, letting the conversation flow casually from there. Somewhere along the way, it had gotten easy to spend time with each other again, and Severide found himself seeking Casey’s company more and more often. It had shifted from Severide and Casey to Kelly and Matt, and as much as they talked now, the silences were no longer taut with tamped down frustration. 

They’d been done with their scotch for nearly two hours when Severide finally stood to leave. Casey didn’t seem like he was trying to push him out the door, but he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. 

“Thanks for the drink,” he said, the irony not lost on him. 

“Sure thing,” Casey laughed, walking him to the door. “Drive safe,” he said, leaning against the doorframe and watching as Severide got the car. Severide waved, and Casey disappeared back inside his oversized house. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide was less than pleased. The doctor had pushed his recovery date into March. Yet another safety measure, he was told. We’ve got to be sure that you’re really fit to go back to work. Casey had been waiting in the lobby, and one glance at Severide’s face had told him exactly what he needed to know. The ride back to Severide’s apartment was silent. 

“I’m just so fucking tired of sitting around jacking off,” Severide snapped, tossing his keys to the counter a bit violently. “I was supposed to be back already. It’s fucking February, and now they’re telling me I can probably make Saint Patrick’s Day.” 

Casey grimaced sympathetically, but he remained silent, clearly not sure if Severide was done ranting yet. He wasn’t.

“You know, and they keep telling me that if I’d come in right away, I’d already be back to work. As if I hadn’t already realized that, and I’m not already kicking myself over it. Jesus fucking Christ. I’m going crazy.”

Severide ran a hand over his face, steadying himself. He didn’t need to take his crap out on Casey. It wasn’t his fault.

“Want to get out?” Casey asked. “We could try that Italian place.” 

Severide shook his head. “I’d rather just hang around.” 

“Sure,” Casey wandered over to the couch and sat down. “What do you want to do?”

Severide shrugged. “Tell me about the station.” He liked hearing Casey talk, and since his stupid crush wasn’t going away, he figured he could indulge a bit. 

Casey grinned, shaking his head, but complied. He told Severide about the big fires, the stupid false alarm at the area high school and the teenage boys who’d hit on Dawson. He talked about the pranks Otis continued to pull on Mills, and how there was a sudden desire to get a station dog. 

Severide snorted at that last bit. “Most of us can’t even hold onto a girlfriend, I’m not sure we should collectively be trusted with a dog.”

Casey laughed. “I know. Someone papered the station with red paper hearts and put a cupid on the truck.” 

“Valentine’s is,” Severide thought about it, “day after tomorrow?” He knew it was coming up, but he hadn’t needed to keep track of it for years. 

“Yeah,” something sad flashed across Casey’s eyes. 

Severide felt an uncomfortable twinge in his chest. He’d had this crazy idea that he could make dinner for Casey on the 14th, and hope that would send the message. But Casey was clearly missing Hallie. Go figure.

“You should get back with her,” Severide said, kicking himself instantly. Why had he opened his fucking mouth?

Casey looked floored. “Hallie?”

Severide nodded, hating himself as he did. It would tear him up twelve ways at once, but Casey had been happy with Hallie.

“Um, you really think so?” Casey sounded upset, biting at his lower lip. “Why?”

Severide shrugged, rubbing his hands together in an old nervous habit. 

“You guys were good for each other. She makes you happy.”

“Yeah,” Casey said. 

There was a long silence, in which Severide came to the conclusion that he should have just kept his fucking mouth shut. Casey seemed upset, and Severide realized that he didn’t know if Casey and Hallie had even been talking, or if Hallie was seeing someone else. 

Abruptly, Casey moved, one hand gripping the collar of Severide’s t-shirt and the other holding the back of his head and he crushed their mouths together in a ferocious, desperate kiss. It was awkward, and didn’t come together right, but Severide kissed back, trying to make Casey see how much he wanted it. 

Casey drew back, face flushed. “I don’t want to get back together with Hallie.” 

“God help me,” Severide said, “but I am so fucking glad.” 

Casey leaned in and kissed him again, and this time it was better. Severide saw it coming, for one thing, but the angle was right. He brought his hands up to Casey’s shoulders, pulling him close. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Casey admitted, breaking the kiss briefly.

Severide just made a displeased noise and resumed the kiss. He shifted so they were lying on the couch, Severide braced up on his good arm. 

The kiss grew deeper, less urgent. Severide teased his tongue inside Casey’s mouth, tasting him, claiming him. He moaned into the kiss, lowering his body so he was flush with Casey. Severide was getting hard, and he shifted, trying to make it less obvious. Underneath him, Casey chuckled into the kiss and then spread his legs a little, letting Severide’s knee slip between his. He thrust up, rocking against Severide. Casey was hard too. It was strange, feeling the pressure of Casey’s dick against his leg, new, but Severide was so far gone on Casey he didn’t give a damn. 

“I want to fuck,” Casey said, the friction between them building unbearably. 

“I don’t have anything here,” Severide said, shaking his head in utter self-hatred. 

“Seriously?” Casey asked. “You don’t have condoms?” 

“Haven’t needed them,” Severide said, tone challenging Casey to push it. 

“You clean?” Casey asked.

“Jesus,” Severide said, laughing as he kissed Casey on the lips. “Yeah. I meant I haven’t been with anybody in ages.”

“Right,” Casey said. He pushed himself up on his elbows. “You ever done this?”

Severide shook his head. “I get the general idea.”

Casey nodded. “Yeah, Tab A, slot B,” he hesitated. “Do you have some kind of lube?” 

Severide laughed, shaking his head. “Shoot me now.”

“Not so much into the necrophilia,” Casey said. “There’s a 7-11 down the street.”

“You want me to go out in public like this?” Severide said, gesturing down at his crotch. 

Casey laughed. “I’ll come with you.”

“And won’t we give little old ladies heart attacks,” Severide said dryly. The idea had merit though, as the alternative was no sex. “Let’s go.” He stood, giving Casey a hand up. They paused, fingers twining. Severide brought his hand up to cup Casey’s jaw and kissed him again. The little shocks of lust running through his system were damn near overwhelming. 

They barely made their way downstairs without tripping, Casey kept sliding his hand up under Severide’s shirt and Severide kept stopping to kiss Casey, half afraid he was going to realize how stupid this was and leave. They managed to keep their hands to themselves the couple blocks to the 7-11, and headed over to the aisle with the condoms. 

“So,” Casey said, looking at the condoms, “ribbed, or friction warming?” He grinned at Severide, holding up two boxes. 

Severide snorted and turned back to the lube. “Whatever you prefer.”

“Whatever I prefer?” Casey said, tone arching. 

Severide laughed. “Whatever, we’ll figure it out at home. Strawberry banana or all-”

Casey cut him off, grabbing one of the bottles from his hand and heading up to the counter, laughing. Kelly came up behind him, resisting the urge to kiss the side of his neck. The clerk seemed vaguely amused as she rang them out, and Severide was glad Casey had remembered to pick up his wallet, because he’d totally spaced the payment part of this whole plan. 

“You’re paying next time,” Casey said, grinning as he picked the stuff up from the counter. 

“Sure thing,” Severide said, holding the door open. 

They got back up to the apartment, kissing as soon as the door closed behind them. 

“Bedroom,” Severide muttered, walking backwards towards his room. Casey broke the kiss and dropped the stuff on the bed. He pulled his t-shirt off and dropped it on the floor, immediately moving to take Severide’s shirt off. Severide helped, but his fingers froze when they hit Casey’s belt buckle. He didn’t want to be the responsible one, but if they were going too fast, they could really fuck things up.

“What?” Casey said, noting the hesitation. 

“Give me thirty seconds to sound like a girl,” Severide said, “but are you sure-”

Casey cut him off with a crushing kiss. “Yeah,” he said. “Stop fucking thinking, Kelly.” 

They finished undressing, tripping out of their jeans and mocking each other for their gracelessness, and then there was that awkward moment when you’re naked in front of someone for the first time. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been in the locker room together, but there hadn’t been intent then. They wouldn’t have looked their fill even if they’d wanted to at that point. This? This was intensely different. 

“Come on,” Casey said, settling back on the bed. 

Severide lay down next to him, brushing his hand along Casey’s ribs and up to his shoulder. They kissed again, fierce and searching. Severide figured there’d be time for slow exploration later; right now he just wanted Casey’s body. 

“So who’s fucking who?” Severide said, nipping at Casey’s neck. 

“As long as it’s open for negotiation later,” Casey said, “right now? I want you to fuck me.”

Severide inhaled, letting the breath out raggedly. Casey was gonna be the death of him before this was all over. 

“Yeah, it’s open for negotiation.” 

Casey pushed the bottle of lube into Severide’s hand and settled back. Severide opened it, hands a bit unsteady. Casey was just looking at him with those goddamn blue eyes, and fuck, it wasn’t like Severide knew what they were doing either. He squeezed lube over Casey’s ass, one hand steadying on Casey’s hip as he jerked. 

“That’s cold,” Casey said by way of explanation, giving Severide a lopsided grin. 

“Sorry,” Severide said, rubbing his fingers against Casey’s asshole. “So,” pressed a little, testing, “start with one, you think?” 

Casey nodded. “Yeah, just one.” A flush was spreading up his chest, and he bit his bottom lip as he looked down toward Severide’s hand. 

Severide poured more lube, smearing it over his fingers. When he pushed his index finger into Casey, it was slow, tentative. He watched Casey’s face for any signs of discomfort. 

“You good?” he asked when his finger was all the way in. 

When all he got was a quick nod, Severide rubbed his free hand over Casey’s stomach. 

“Breathe,” he said, grinning at Casey when their eyes met. 

“It’s kind of weird,” Casey said. 

Severide twisted his finger, working it inside. Casey was tight around him, and Severide briefly wondered how guys made this work. 

Casey brought one hand up to the back of Severide’s head, bringing him in for a kiss. Severide lowered his head, nuzzling along the side of Casey’s neck. 

“Try a second,” Casey said, spreading his legs a bit wider and tilting his hips up. 

Severide dripped more lube over his hand, fingers messy and wet. He slid his index finger out, feeling Casey’s muscles grip him. God, but this was way intense. He pressed his index and middle fingers in together, slow but firm, eyes locked on Casey. Casey gripped the blankets uselessly, but he was breathing, inhaling in tight gasps. 

“Jesus,” he exclaimed suddenly, hips jerking up. “The fuck was that?” 

Severide froze. “Good, bad?” 

“Good,” Casey lay back against the bed. “Way good. Whatever that was, just keep doing it.”

Severide angled his fingers, pressing inside again. Casey’s breathing stuttered, and he rocked down against Severide. The movement was sudden, uncontrolled, and Severide loved the effect he was having on Casey. 

“Ready for more?” Severide asked, twisting his fingers again. 

Casey hesitated, and Severide shook his head. 

“I can do this some more,” he said, stroking Casey’s inner thigh. He slid his fingers most of the way out, pushed them back in. 

“It’s good,” Casey said, running one hand through his hair. “It’s just strange. I want you inside.” 

Severide’s breath caught. “You ready?” He was so hard he couldn’t take it, and he wanted to fuck, but he’d be damned if he was gonna hurt Casey by rushing things. 

Casey nodded, reaching for the box of condoms. He tore it open, grabbed one out and opened it. Severide took it and rolled it on, slicking himself with one hand and teasing at Casey’s hole with the other. It seemed so surreal, Casey spread open for him like this. Severide leaned forward and kissed Casey passionately, open-mouthed and wet. 

“Come on,” Casey urged, his voice a rough whisper against Severide’s lips. 

Severide lined himself up with Casey and pushed in, slowly. He bit his lip, watching as the tip of his cock disappeared into Casey’s body. Casey gripped Severide’s wrist, eyes squeezing shut tightly.

“You-” Severide began. 

“Yeah,” Casey cut him off before he could finish the question. “Yeah, just keep going,” his blue eyes opened, holding Severide’s. 

Severide rolled his hips, little movements taking him farther in. Casey was so fucking tight, and Severide felt like he was about to come by the time he was in all the way. It was total sensory overload, Casey’s smell, the feel of him, skin on skin. Severide rocked his hips, thrusting to get Casey broken in to the movement. 

“Come on Kelly,” Casey whispered. “Fuck me.” 

Severide kissed Casey’s shoulder, nipping slightly and then moving his lips back up to kiss Casey on the mouth. He started moving, sliding out a bit and then pushing back in. Casey repositioned himself, gripping Severide’s shoulders as he spread his legs even wider. His fingers dug into the muscles of Severide’s shoulders, searching for purchase. 

“Yeah,” Severide murmured, running a hand up Casey’s neck and curling around the back of his neck, pulling him up for a kiss. “Yeah, I got you Matt.” 

“Come on,” Casey said, reaching between them to jerk himself off. 

Severide inhaled deeply, trying to last. He shifted his angle, bumping against the spot that had gotten Casey so bad before. Casey’s whole body seized, and his fingernails dug just shy of painfully into Severide’s skin. Severide shouted something he was pretty sure made no sense and came, bracing himself forward with a hand next to Casey’s head. He kept thrusting, working to help bring Casey off, and then Casey came, gasping out Severide’s name over and over as his body shook. 

“God that’s good,” Severide said. “Jesus.”

Casey just nodded, boneless under Severide. He kept touching, hands stroking Severide’s arms, his face, his chest. They broke the contact long enough for Severide to toss the condom and Casey to go to the bathroom and wipe his chest off, then they fell back in bed together. 

It had never been Severide’s thing to cuddle, and what he was doing with Casey didn’t quite count as cuddling, really. It was just touching, contact, skin on skin without intent. If they fell asleep with Casey’s head against Severide’s shoulder, and their legs tangled up and arms around each other, that was okay.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had become a regular thing. Casey got off work, and most nights he came by Severide’s. More often than not, they ended up in bed together. Shay wisely kept her mouth shut the first morning Casey and Severide wandered out of the room together, but took every subsequent opportunity to tease Severide. He found he didn’t really mind. 

The thing he and Casey had was good, comfortable. They were figuring each other out, learning stuff about what made each other tick. They were learning other stuff too. Severide grinned into his cup as he pictured Casey the night before, coming completely apart under his touch.

The sharp, sudden knock at the door was starting. Shay stuck her head over the railing, concern written into her features. Severide shrugged, standing to answer the door. 

Casey brushed past him, features set. “Where’s your whiskey?”

“Matt-” Severide began. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Casey said, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. 

Severide looked back at the stairs. Shay had gone back to her room, but he knew from experience that sound carried in the apartment. He pulled the whiskey from under the counter and handed it to Casey.

Casey poured some and knocked it back, then poured a glass and wandered into the kitchen, standing next to the table.

“Do you-” Severide started. 

“Not right now,” Casey cut him off, taking a drink.

“want some ice?” Severide finished, holding his hands up placatingly. Whatever had Casey going, he didn’t like it. He hadn’t seen Casey so upset about anything since he’d woken up in the hospital, and before that, Darden.

Casey shook his head, running a hand over his face. “It was a crappy day,” he said, staring out the window as he took another drink.

The tension in the room weighed on Severide, and he wasn’t really sure how to proceed. Casey looked so edgy Severide was afraid he’d snap if he touched him. He settled for returning to the kitchen and loading the dishwasher. It was hard, but he didn’t look over to where Casey stood, nursing the whiskey. When he was done, Severide glanced over at Casey. His shoulders were slumped, the rigid posture he’d been maintaining gone. 

Severide walked over, taking the empty glass from Casey’s hand and setting it on the table. Casey glanced up, and Severide searched his bright blue eyes. Exhaustion warred with a jumble of emotions Severide couldn’t quite read. He leaned forward and kissed Casey, soft and without heat. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey,” Casey said, lips twisting into the shadow of a smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Severide said, pulling Casey towards the couch. “C’mere.” 

If Casey were any closer to Severide when they sat down, he’d have been in his lap. Severide didn’t mind the contact. The longer they touched, the more Casey seemed to relax his fool head. It shouldn’t be so hard to get him to just breathe, but there it was. Half an hour into staring at the newscast without seeing it, Severide nudged Casey with his shoulder. 

“You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Casey shrugged, remaining silent. There was a long pause, and Severide was just about look back at the TV when Casey spoke. 

“There was an incident today,” he paused, and Severide stayed quiet. “Rescue was working on the bottom floor, Mills and I had gone upstairs. The house started to give; Rescue saw the support beams go and evacuated. They didn’t call it out on the radio. I guess they didn’t realize we were still upstairs. We fell. We got lucky, I guess, because the floor kind of crumpled instead of just dropping out from under our feet like with Herrmann. A beam came down across us, and we couldn’t move. Mills was able to radio for help, but it was close.”

Severide took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against the wash of black rage that screamed inside him. He curled his hands into fists, fingernails digging into his palms. The thought of losing Casey brought back the full pain of Darden’s death, the racking guilt, the loneliness when he’d pushed Casey away. 

He exhaled, trying to control himself. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” Casey looked down at his body. “I’ve got some pretty awesome bruising on my shoulder and ribs, but they said I didn’t fracture anything. Mills is good too.”

“You could have fucking died,” saying it didn’t make Severide feel any better. He couldn’t stop the stream of images. He’d seen Casey lying motionless on the floor of a burning building; it was easy adding a beam to the image, adding a rescue team that didn’t follow protocol. If he’d been there, it wouldn’t have happened. 

“I know,” Casey said, reaching for Severide, then letting his hand drop back to his side. The fact that he didn’t try to play it off drove home how bad the situation had been. It was sobering. He wanted to personally dismember the idiots, but that wasn’t going to help Casey. Wouldn’t have helped him if things had gone just a bit differently.

Severide blinked away what almost threatened to be tears and stood up. 

“Jesus, Matt,” he ran his hands through his hair, lacing his fingers behind his neck. Casey stood up too, the movement lacking direction. He reached for Severide, gripping tightly when Severide took his hand.

Severide took a step backwards. “Come to bed.” 

“I don’t want to fuck,” Casey said, following him to the bedroom. 

“That’s cool,” Severide replied as he lay down on the bed. It really wasn’t what he’d had in mind. 

Casey gave him a skeptical look but lay down next to him anyway. Severide wrapped his arms around Casey, pulling him close. He could still smell the smoke in his hair, even through his shampoo. Casey exhaled, relaxing against Severide’s chest. 

“I’m tired,” Casey said quietly, pressing a kiss to the base of Severide’s throat. 

“So sleep,” Severide said, shifting so his shoulder was more comfortable. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Casey nodded, tipping his head so he could kiss Severide on the lips before returning to his former position, eyes already drifting closed. Severide ran a hand in soothing circles against Casey’s back, savoring the feel of the muscle under the bunching cotton of Casey’s shirt. He needed this as much as Casey did. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide smiled when he woke up. Casey was still asleep, head resting on Severide’s chest. They’d spent the night together plenty, but there was still always a sense of pleased amazement when he woke up with Casey. Yeah, it had been weeks. It didn’t matter. He stroked Casey’s arm softly, careful not to wake him. Their relationship was definitely a work in progress, but hey, he could think of it as a relationship. That was new for him. 

Gently, Severide shifted, disentangling from Casey. Casey stirred, moving into the space Severide had just occupied. Severide winced, not breathing until Casey sighed and relaxed against the pillow. When he was certain he hadn’t woken Casey up, Severide slipped out of the room and went to the kitchen. 

There was no coffee, which meant that Shay wasn’t up yet. Severide put the pot on, using the good stuff they normally reserved for weekends. He stretched as he waited for the pot to brew, working his neck from side to side. 

“G’morning,” Shay said, gripping the railing tightly as she came down the stairs. She blinked, rubbing at her eyes. “Coffee yet?”

Severide shook his head, amused. “Working on it.” 

Shay nodded and sat down, resting her chin on her hand. “Casey still here?”

“Yeah,” Severide said. He pulled three mugs and set them on the counter, pouring Shay’s cup before the pot was finished. He shoved it over, grabbing the creamer from the fridge. 

“Thanks,” Shay said, doctoring the drink. She took a sip, looking up over the edge of her cup. “He okay?”

Severide poured his own mug, glancing up to meet her concerned gaze. 

“Yeah. Rough day at the office.”

Shay raised an eyebrow. 

Severide looked down at the counter. “He almost died. I don’t think he wants to talk about it anymore,” Severide sure as hell didn’t. The visuals of Casey lying trapped under a beam had haunted him all night. 

Shay nodded. “Got it,” there was a long pause. “You guys fight fires, Kelly. You can’t always be there to protect him.”

Kelly set his mug down so hard the coffee sloshed over his hand. 

“I fucking know that Shay,” he snapped. “Fuck,” he turned to run cold water over his hand. Tears stung at his eyes and blinked rapidly, willing them away.

“Hey,” Shay put one hand on his shoulder and took his burned hand in the other. “I’m sorry.” 

He shook his head. “It’ll be fine. It’s not even blistering.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Shay said, stepping back.

“I know,” he replied. 

“What happened?” Casey asked from behind them, tired eyes concerned. 

Severide wanted to kick himself. Casey always looked like he had the weight of the whole world on his back. The last thing he ever wanted to do was add to that self-imposed burden. 

“Just spilled coffee on myself,” he said, grinning. “It’s too early.” 

Casey closed the distance between them and reached for Severide’s hand. He let Casey inspect it. 

“See, no big deal.”

Casey brushed a kiss against the corner of Severide’s mouth, and Severide turned just enough to make it a real kiss. Their lips melded together, Casey warm and pliant, and he moaned softly against Severide before pulling back. 

“I think you’ll live,” Casey said, smiling as he poured himself a mug of coffee.

“No sympathy for the wounded, huh?” Severide asked, drinking from his own mug.

“I think that was plenty sympathetic,” Shay teased.

“Help a guy out,” Severide said, shaking his head exaggeratedly. 

Casey laughed, sitting at the counter next to Shay. “I could be more sympathetic, but we’d have to go back to bed.” 

Shay snorted. “I’m going back upstairs, you boys be good.”

Severide waved as Shay retreated upstairs, then smiled at Casey.

“Good work.”

Casey shrugged. “I could blow you.” 

Severide blinked, startled. They’d given each other blowjobs, but Casey was generally a lot more enthusiastic about bottoming than he was about giving head. For him to offer so randomly was surprising.

“Hell yeah,” Severide said, downing the rest of coffee in a gulp.

Casey raised an eyebrow and held up his mug. “I’m still working on mine.”

Severide groaned, already too aroused for his own good. “Matt, that’s not fair.”

Casey smiled. “Sorry,” he took a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee, making a show of the way his throat worked as he swallowed.

Severide came around the counter and wrapped his arms around Casey’s waist. He kissed the side of Casey’s neck, nipping gently.

“Biting isn’t going to make me enjoy my coffee any slower,” Casey said, laughing. 

Severide rolled his hips forward, brushing his erection against Casey’s back. 

“You drink it black,” he said, voice pitched low, right against Casey’s ear. “What’s to enjoy?”

“There’s something about the experience,” Casey answered, drawing out the last word. 

Severide really wanted to just set Casey’s cup down on the counter and drag him to the bedroom, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t going to have the desired effect either. He settled for leaning against the counter next to Casey and pouting. 

Casey set his coffee down and leaned forward to kiss Severide, tongue sweeping across the seam of Severide’s lips. Opening his mouth to Casey, Severide moved forward, ready and very willing. Casey broke the kiss and smiled, running a hand down Severide’s chest and over his erection. 

“Not done yet,” he turned back to his coffee.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Severide groaned, gripping the edge of the counter tightly.

Casey chuckled. “You’re a drama queen, Kelly.”

“No, no,” Kelly protested, shaking his head. “This is not dramatic, this is desperate.” 

Casey laughed outright and finished his coffee. “Come on,” he said, standing up and kissing Severide gently on the lips. Severide pulled their bodies flush together, walking Casey towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss. When they reached the room, Casey lowered to his knees, pushing Severide’s shirt up so he could kiss across his chest and stomach. Severide gripped Casey’s shoulders, steadying himself. 

With a slow, deliberate movement, Casey undid Severide’s zipper, looking up to meet his eyes briefly. Severide exhaled, waiting. Casey pressed a kiss just above the waistband of Severide’s boxers, tugged at the waistband slightly and his mouth wandered lower. 

Severide closed his eyes, so ready he couldn’t stand it. He’d never had someone string him out like Casey did. They never went past the point of frustration, just pushed right up against it. 

Casey pulled Severide’s pants and boxers down, waiting as he stepped out of them. Casey put his hands on Severide’s hips, running his thumbs along the hipbone. He leaned forward and nipped Severide’s inner thigh, then kissed the stinging skin. His cheek brushed Severide’s cock, and Severide couldn’t help that his grip tightened on Casey’s shoulders.

“I’m getting there,” Casey said, kissing Severide’s other thigh twice before finally taking Severide’s cock in his mouth. 

Severide groaned, letting his head fall back as Casey began sucking him, slipping off to kiss the length before resuming. It was inelegant, but Casey knew what he liked and was pretty good at figuring out how to do it. 

“Yeah,” Severide whispered, looking down to where Casey’s lips were stretched tight around him. “Matt,” he said, one hand stroking Casey’s hair. 

Casey looked up, their eyes locking as he took Severide in deeper. Severide sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to let his hips snap forward against Casey’s mouth. The heat and wet and god, Casey’s tongue, were pulling him right up to the edge a lot faster than he’d ever admit. 

“Gonna come,” he said, trying to pull back. 

Casey took him in as deep as he could and fucking hummed and he swallowed when Severide came. He pulled off, coughing, but looked pleased with himself. 

Severide hauled Casey to his feet and kissed him, forceful enough their teeth clicked together at the start. 

“You break me,” he murmured when they broke apart for air, resting his forehead against Casey’s.

“You too,” Casey replied, and he smiled as he resumed the kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severide’s first day back was nothing spectacular. He was tied to a desk pending another round of physical clearance exams, but he was back at work. He grumbled at the stack of paperwork the chief had pawned off on him. It was intern work, but he supposed it was better than nothing. 

Casey walked into the chief’s office, nodding at Severide as he passed. Severide nodded back, vaguely amused. They hadn’t really talked about what their dynamic was going to be, so he was letting Casey take the lead. 

Mills came bounding up, smile lighting his face. “Hey Lieutenant, it’s great to see you back.”

Severide leaned back, stretching. “Thanks. Can’t wait to be back on the truck.” 

“I bet. Pretty much everybody feels the same way.”

Severide felt a rush of warmth. It was good to know he’d been missed, and equally good to know that there was still a place for him. He’d been out for a long time. 

“Thanks, Mills.”

Mills nodded and wandered out to the hangar. Severide shook his head and returned to his data entry. It was mindless, but it passed the time.

Casey came out of the chief’s office and flashed him a smile. 

“Hey, Severide, good to have you back.”

Severide grinned. “It’s good to be here.” 

The chief walked out of his office and stared at Casey’s retreating back. When Casey was out of earshot, he turned to Severide. 

“I presume you two have your issues settled?”

Severide’s phone buzzed and he looked down at the text from Casey. 

**Equipment room. Ten minutes.**

He grinned broadly. “Yeah chief, we’re good.”


End file.
